o keep it to ourselves?'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, not tell your wife. It might alarm her.'

'Alarm her! My dear Gerald, what are you thinking of? Why, she would
not be alarmed or afraid of me if all the gipsies that ever didn't
come from Bohemia agreed that I was to murder her, or even to have a
hard thought of her, whilst so long as she was saying "Jack
Robinson."'

Gerald remonstrated. 'Old fellow, women are superstitious--far more
than we men are; and, also they are blessed--or cursed--with a nervous
system to which we are strangers. I see too much of it in my work not
to realise it. Take my advice and do not let her know, or you will
frighten her.'

Joshua's lips unconsciously hardened as he answered: 'My dear fellow,
I would not have a secret from my wife. Why, it would be the
beginning of a new order of things between us. We have no secrets from
each other. If we ever have, then you may begin to look out for
something odd between us.'

'Still,' said Gerald, 'at the risk of unwelcome interference, I say
again be warned in time.'

'The gipsy's very words,' said Joshua. 'You and she seem quite of one
accord. Tell me, old man, is this a put-up thing? You told me of the
gipsy camp--did you arrange it all with Her Majesty?' This was said
with an air of bantering earnestness. Gerald assured him that he only
heard of the camp that morning; but he made fun of every answer of his
friend, and, in the process of this raillery, the time passed, and
they entered the cottage.

Mary was sitting at the piano but not playing. The dim twilight had
waked some very tender feelings in her breast, and her eyes were full
of gentle tears. When the men came in she stole over to her husband's
side and kissed him. Joshua struck a tragic attitude.

'Mary,' he said in a deep voice, 'before you approach me, listen to
the words of Fate. The Stars have spoken and the doom is sealed.'

'What is it, dear? Tell me the fortune, but do not frighten me.'

'Not at all, my dear; but there is a truth which it is well that you
should know. Nay, it is necessary so that all your arrangements can be
made beforehand, and everything be decently done and in order.'

'Go on, dear; I am listening.'

'Mary Considine, your effigy may yet be seen at Madame Tussaud's. The
juris-imprudent Stars have announced their fell tidings that this hand
is red with blood--your blood. Mary! Mary! my God!' He sprang
forward, but too late to catch her as she fell