Sophia Ozanne thought of the black list she had kept for years of all the people whom Rosanne disliked and who had come to ill. In swift procession they passed through her mind, and Dick Gardner, with his anguished throat, walked at the end of the procession.
"Yes." Her dry lips ejected the word in spite of her wish to be silent.
"Ah!" said the Malay, softly satisfied. "And the bright stones? She not get all she want without buy?"
This time, Mrs. Ozanne did not answer; only her blanched face grew a shade whiter. The woman leaned forward and spoke to her earnestly, imploringly.
"You tell her get rich quick with the bright stones before too late. Her power going soon. Rachel die in three days, and then gifts go away from Rachel's baby. No more power hate or get bright stones. Tell her quick, missis. I make you come here today so you can go back tell her. All night and all morning I stand here make you come to me. Now, go back quick, tell my baby. Three days! Eight o'clock on third night, Rachel die."
As strangely as she had appeared, the Malay withdrew into her wretched shanty and closed the door.
Sophia Ozanne never knew by what means and in what manner she reached her home that day, but at about five o'clock she came into the hall of Tiptree House, and was met by her daughter Rosalie with the news that Rosanne had got up from her bed and left the house, taking a suitcase with her.
"And, oh, mother, I could see that she was in a high fever, her cheeks were so flushed and her eyes like fire! What shall we do?"
Her mother sat down and wiped great beads of moisture from her pallid face.
"I think we will pray, Rosalie," she said slowly.