“Like as not she’ll tell you bad news, Oliver,” protested his sister. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Anyhow,” said Mr. Gooch surlily, “it’s a good way to get the door closed.”
CHAPTER IV
HIS FORTUNE—GOOD AND BAD
Mr. Sikes, taking no chance on having Baxter’s order vetoed by Serepta, rushed from the room. A moment later he returned, followed by two shivering women who stopped just inside the door and apologetically smirked upon the waiting group. One of them, evidently the leader, was a woman of middle-age—swarthy, keen-eyed, sardonic of expression. A thick red shawl covered her hair, drawn close under the chin by a brown, claw-like hand. She wore a man’s overcoat; the tips of a pair of heavy boots peeped out from beneath the bottom of her dirty yellow petticoat. Her companion, much younger and quite handsome in a bold, sullen way, also wore a scarlet shawl about her head; she was dressed very much after the pattern of her senior.
“Here we are,” announced Mr. Sikes, with a wave of his hand.
“Shut the door,” ordered Mrs. Grimes.
The host, with a nervous sort of geniality, beckoned to the strangers. “Better come down to the fire, Queen,” he said.
They did not move. The elder woman fixed a curious look upon Mr. Baxter.
“I am the queen of the gypsies, Mister, but how came you to know it?” she asked in a hoarse, not unmusical voice.