I put my watch away and looked at him. The moon, obscured though it was by clouds, showed a tall figure, with strong shoulders, and a face which seemed in the night as dark as a Moor's. The man had lifted his hat from his thick black hair, and I said [pg 315]to myself that he was a model for an artist who wished to paint a gypsy.
Finding that I did not answer on the instant, he went on—
“The señor must forgive me if I have made a mistake; but my sister, who had an errand to do for a gentleman, has sent me in her place.”
“In that case you have made no mistake,” I said. “You have a message for me from your sister?”
“And from a lady. The message is, that if the señor will come to my house in an hour, he will find what he seeks.”
My blood quickened.
“What do I seek?”
“A lady who loves you, and has sent you this through my sister.”
The man produced a tiny white paper packet which I took, but would not open in his presence.
“Do you mean that the lady will, meet me at your house—to-night?” I asked.