"Look at it well," said Maxwell. "It is the last glimpse of civilization you will get for many a day. Henceforward our path leads us into a land of eternal shadow haunted by all things evil; at least, and they have some reason, so the negroes say. There's the señorita, telling fortunes in that striped tent. It is curious that she is beckoning—me."
Maxwell pushed his way through the throng surrounding a gaudy pavilion, where Miss Castro was evidently doing excellent business; and presently he returned, smiling curiously.
"She wishes to tell your fortune. Go in and spend a crown in the cause of charity. I can't say that mine was a very good one, but the señorita showed an accuracy which was, under the circumstances, surprising."
Dane made his way with difficulty into the tent, and when his eyes grew used to the change from brilliant sunshine to shadow, he realized one reason for Miss Castro's success. She wore the dress of the Andaluces, thin, lace-like draperies of black, sufficiently short to reveal the tiny high-arched feet in dainty Moorish slippers. A gauzy black mantilla and a crimson rose adorned her hair, while the graces of her figure were emphasized by a broad zone of African gold, chased with zodiacal characters by sable craftsmen. The costume suited her; and Miss Castro was probably aware of the fact.
"So you will learn a little of the future, Don Ilton?" she said, with unusual gravity. "No, you must not smile. This is not the charlatan's trickery. The ancient Moors they teach us wisdom, and I have study. So, we throw there the crown, and I lay this Aggri in your palm. The Aggri has virtue, though what it is no man know."
She detached from her bracelet an insignificant bead, one of the mysterious Aggri which cannot be counterfeited, and, as Dane afterward learned, can hardly be bought with money in West Africa.
"It is a big, hard hand, and has done much work, perhaps with the shovel, in a hot country—I think the Sud America," she said. "It will also hold the rifle. It is well to hold the rifle straight in Africa."
Miss Castro had splendid eyes, of a kind that it is not wise for a susceptible man to gaze into too steadily while his hand is held in very pretty fingers; and Dane felt it incumbent on him to break the spell.
"This is not all divination, señorita. I told you I was going inland from the African coast; though I certainly did not tell you I had been in South America. Did you guess it by my darkened skin?"
"It is not the trickery," repeated Miss Castro. "I tell you only the things I know. There is blood on your path through the forest—blood, and a shadow that follows, creeping always behind. Look well to your friend. The shadow follows, but does not rest on—you. If it should, there is a pale, cold woman in England who—but I cannot tell you if she would be sorry, or if you will ever see her again. There is also treasure, but the lines fade and the crosses are many, with only the sign of danger clear. I can see no farther. Only the good saints know the end."