"That old gypsy fortune-teller, who looks like an almshouse widow? Why?"
"She hates Chaldea, and I suspect that Chaldea has something to do with the matter of this conspiracy."
"Ha!" Miss Greeby rubbed her aquiline nose. "A conspiracy. Perhaps you may be right. But its reason?"
Lambert colored. "Chaldea wants me to marry her, you know."
"The minx! I know she does. I warned you against having her to sit for you, Lambert. But there's no sense in your suggestion, my boy. It wasn't any catch for her to get Pine killed and leave his wife free to marry you."
"No. And yet—and yet—hang it," the young man clutched his hair in desperation and glared at the fire, "I can't see any motive."
"Nor can I. Unless it is to be found in the City."
"Gypsies are more lawless than City men," observed the other quickly, "and Hearne would have enemies rather than Pine."
"I don't agree with you," said Miss Greeby, rising and getting ready to go away. "Hearne was nobody: Pine was a millionaire. Successful men have enemies all over the shop."
"At the inquest it was said that Pine had no enemies."