"Three times three--the bones gleam white, None dare pass by day or night; Three times three--the riddle tell! The answer lies in the pixies' well." The voice ceased as suddenly as it had begun. "Is that all?" asked the harsh accents of the wise woman. "That is all the spirits choose to tell," answered the soft voice, already, as it seemed, far away; and in another moment the lamp shone forth again. The cat leaped down from the table with a hissing sound, and the old woman was revealed in her former position, resting her two elbows on the table, her withered face supported in the palm of her hand. "Thou hast heard?" "Ay, but I have not understood. Canst thou read the riddle to me?" But the old woman shook her head. "That may not be; that thou must do for thyself. I will write down the words for thee, that thou mayest not forget; but thou, and thou alone, must find the clue." With swift fingers she transcribed some characters on a fragment of parchment, and Cuthbert marvelled at the skill in penmanship the old woman displayed when she gave the paper into his hands. It was with a beating heart that he scanned the mysterious characters; but the old woman had risen to her feet, and motioned them away. "Begone!" she cried, "begone! I have no more to say. Heed my warning. Beware of menaced perils. The perils of the forest are less than the perils of the city; and an open foe is better than a false friend--a friend who lures those that trust him to a common destruction, even though he himself be ready to share it. Harden thine heart--beware of thine own merciful spirit. Turn a deaf ear to the cry of the pursued. Swim with the current, and strive not to stem it. And now go! I have said my say. Thou hast fortune within thy grasp an thou hast wits to find it and hold it." There was no disobeying the imperious gesture of the old woman. Cuthbert would fain have lingered to ask more questions, but he dared not do so. With a few brief words of thanks and farewell, he took Cherry's hand and turned away. The bolt of the door flew back; the door opened of itself again. The cat stalked on before down the dark staircase, and a faint gleam from above showed them the way down. The outer door sprang open before and closed behind them, and the next minute Cuthbert was hurrying his companion along the dark street, pulling her into the shadow of a doorway if any sounds announced the approach of any of the tavern roisterers, and so protecting her from any danger or peril till they stood at last in safety beneath Martin Holt's roof, and looked wonderingly into each other's eyes, as if questioning whether it had not all been part and parcel of a dream.