But the Egyptian said, “No, you are not going.  It is these men who are going.  Go, sirs, and leave us.”

“And you will provide for Nanny?” asked the doctor contemptuously.

“Yes.”

“And where is the siller to come from?”

“That is my affair, and Nanny’s.  Begone, both of you.  She shall never want again.  See how the very mention of your going brings back life to her face.”

“I won’t begone,” the doctor said roughly, “till I see the colour of your siller.”

“Oh, the money,” said the Egyptian scornfully.  She put her hand into her pocket confidently, as if used to well-filled purses, but could only draw out two silver pieces.

“I had forgotten,” she said aloud, though speaking to herself.

“I thought so,” said the cynical doctor.  “Come, Nanny.”

“You presume to doubt me!” the Egyptian said, blocking his way to the door.

“How could I presume to believe you?” he answered.  “You are a beggar by profession, and yet talk as if—­pooh, nonsense.”

“I would live on terrible little,” Nanny whispered, “and Sanders will be out again in August month.”

“Seven shillings a week,” rapped out the doctor.

“Is that all?” the Egyptian asked.  “She shall have it.”

“When?”

“At once.  No, it is not possible to-night, but to-morrow I will bring five pounds; no, I will send it; no, you must come for it.”

“And where, O daughter of Dives, do you reside?” the doctor asked.

No doubt the Egyptian could have found a ready answer had her pity for Nanny been less sincere; as it was, she hesitated, wanting to propitiate the doctor, while holding her secret fast.

“I only asked,” McQueen said, eyeing her curiously, “because when I make an appointment I like to know where it is to be held.  But I suppose you are suddenly to rise out of the ground as you have done to-day, and did six weeks ago.”

“Whether I rise out of the ground or not,” the gypsy said, keeping her temper with an effort, “there will be a five-pound note in my hand.  You will meet me tomorrow about this hour at—­say the Kaims of Cushie?”

“No,” said the doctor after a moment’s pause; “I won’t.  Even if I went to the Kaims I should not find you there.  Why can you not come to me?”

“Why do you carry a woman’s hair,” replied the Egyptian, “in that locket on your chain?”

Whether she was speaking of what she knew, or this was only a chance shot, I cannot tell, but the doctor stepped back from her hastily, and could not help looking down at the locket.

“Yes,” said the Egyptian calmly, “it is still shut; but why do you sometimes open it at nights?”

“Lassie,” the old doctor cried, “are you a witch?”

“Perhaps,” she said; “but I ask for no answer to my questions.  If you have your secrets, why may I not have mine?  Now will you meet me at the Kaims?”