He was going to draw back when he felt his hand caught; held by dark fingers, supple and strong, the palm turned upward as the husky voice went on with its curious crooning lilt, its patter of words. "It's under the cloud you stand, my fine gentleman; the cloud of a lie ... but it clears ... it clears.... There's a far-off journey and castle walls ... and love all the time--hidden--by your side...." She bent her head lower, tracing the lines with a forefinger stiff with a broad gold ring. The light of the flares fell on her bare neck and the bright Paisley shawl, crossed on her full bosom. "Beware of a dark woman!--she's playing you false. Between two fires you will burn and burn ... And then, when the light fades ... on the turn of the tide ... there's the Lucky Moon and the Dream of your life...!" Her voice sank away. She straightened herself, with a clink of silver bangles, and let his hand fall. Her lips were still muttering and her eyes, opened wide, were like pools of ink as McTaggart stared at her. "And what about the golden crown?" He felt in his pocket. With an effort he spoke lightly to break the uncanny charm. "It will come, my fine gentleman--before the year is dead." "Peter!" He heard Jill calling to him. "Peter! where _are_ you?" The coin changed hands. "A blessing on your head--the gypsy's blessing, sir. The eyes that see and the ears that hear ... And through the dark clouds the sun shining bright--with love coming swiftly ... love by your side..." "Peter!" Impatiently Jill caught his arm--"we thought we had lost you." He turned with a start. "Hullo, Jill!" He felt a trifle dazed. "I've been listening to a gypsy--having my fortune told." "No?--what fun! What did she tell you?" He glanced behind him, but the woman had gone. "All sorts of things. I'm to have a golden crown--and a castle somewhere. In Spain, I should think!" "Well, come along now--they've gone to the swings." He slipped a hand through his little friend's arm. "Let me carry that cocoanut. Did you win it, Jill?" But the girl refused, guarding her treasure. They crossed the trodden grass, damp with the dew, to where a row of booths with poisonous-looking sweets, cheap ribands and laces and ginger-bread "snaps" had attracted the usual pairs of village lovers. "Buy yer lidy a fairing!" A shrill voice hailed them--"a pretty brooch now--a bracelet?--a ring? Come now, young sir--yer 'and in yer pocket!--there's yer sweet'art waitin' ... the price of a kiss!" McTaggart laughed back with a side glance at Jill. "Would you like a fairing?" His eyes ran over the stall. "Have a ring with 'Mizpah'?--Let's buy one for Stephen." But the girl shook her head, with a gesture of annoyance. "Come now, dearie"--the woman entreated--"choose a pretty keepsake--the gen'leman 'ull pay." McTaggart bent forward, searching for a gift, suddenly obstinate. "You'll _have_ to have something!"