He considered as he explored a fruit-dish.
"I don't know what you mean by 'the usual sense of the word,'" he answered finally. "I am a Gypsy by birth and blood. I passed my boyhood with the caravans. I learned to play the fiddle with the Gypsy maestros of Hungary."
"It's funny," I admitted, "but I never quite envisaged you as a Gypsy until I heard you sing that song."
Nikka smiled.
"I can understand that. I made up that song because I was feeling the lure of the blood. The Gypsy in me has been crying out for assertion. I think that is one reason why I was so glad to have Hugh call on me. I smelled in his need a chance to sample the old, wild life again."
"Do you believe the Gypsies play a part in this treasure business?" I asked.
He nodded.
"I feel it in my bones. It is a Gypsy tradition, remember. Probably we shall find the interest of some Tzigane tribe crossing ours."
"And then?"
"My tribe fight for Hugh."