“Yes,” she said. “I know it all, and I told you you wanted to work out a mystery.”
“What is the mystery?”
“Ah!” she said, with a cunning twinkle in her snake-like eyes, “that is my secret.”
“If it is, I wish to know it. I will pay you according to the fortune you reveal, so proceed.”
“In the first place you would like to know where your wife is, and I can find her in a hurry, and the man she lives with will some day make her weep. You don’t know even why she married you, but I can tell you all about that and the mystery you are working on, too.”
Scott had laughed at the idea of fortune-telling, but he was quite sure that this old gypsy possessed the knowledge of some facts he wished to know.
“Did you tell me anything more when you were here?” Scott asked.
“I did tell you something you did not like to hear: that there was the stain of blood on your hands.”
“Anything more?”
“Yes, I see you lying asleep, with a long knife above your head in the hand of a man. If you will let me I will help you.”