The girl uttered an angry exclamation as the old woman seized it, and after examining it by the candle light, placed it in a small iron coffer.  Harry felt he had done wisely, for the old woman’s face bore a much warmer expression of good-will than had before characterized it.

“You cannot leave now,” she said.  “I heard as I came along that a well-dressed gallant had been seen in the lanes, and every one’s mouth is on water.  They said that they thought he had some woman with him, but I did not dream it was Zita.  You cannot leave to-night; to-morrow I will get you some clothes of my son’s, and in these you should be able to escape without detection.”

Very slowly the hours passed.  The women at times talked together in Romaic, while Harry, who had possession of the only chair in the room, several times nodded off to sleep.  In the morning there was a movement heard in the next room, and the old woman went in there.

“Surely that woman cannot be your mother?” Harry said to the girl.

“She is not,” she answered.  “I believe that I was stolen as a child; indeed, they have owned as much.  But what can I do?  I am one of them.  What can a gypsy do?  We are good for nothing but to sing and to steal.”

“If I get free from this scrape,” Harry said, “you may be sure that shall not be ungrateful, and if you long to leave this life, I can secure you a quiet home in England with my father.”

The girl clasped her hands in delight.

“Oh, that would be too good!” she exclaimed.  “Too good; but I fear it can never be.”

She put her fingers to her lips, as the door again opened.  The old woman entered, carrying some clothes.

“Here,” she said; “they have gone out; put these on, Zita and I will go out and see if the coast is clear.”

Harry, smiling to himself at the singularity of his having twice to disguise himself as a gypsy, rapidly changed his clothes.  Presently the old woman returned.

“Quick,” she exclaimed; “I hear that the news of the riot in the drinking-house has got about this morning, and it is known that an Englishman, something like the one seen in the lanes, took Zita’s part, and there are suspicions that it was she who acted as his guide.  They have been roughly questioning us.  I told her to go on to avoid suspicion, while I ran back.  You cannot stir out now, and I heard a talk of searching our rooms.  Come, then, we may find a room unoccupied below; you must take refuge there for the present.”

Harry still retained his sword, incongruous as it was with his attire, but he had determined to hide it under his clothes, so that, if detected, he might be able at least to sell his life.  Taking it in his hand, he followed the old woman downstairs.  She listened at each door, and continued downward until she reached the first floor.

“I can hear no one here,” she said, listening at a door.  “Go up a few steps; I will knock.  If any one is there I can make some excuse.”