prophesy some jurisprudence into my system. For instance, you say "this
hand is the hand of a murderer." Well, whatever it may be in the
future--or potentially--it is at present not one. You ought to give your
prophecy in such terms as "the hand which will be a murderer's", or,
rather, "the hand of one who will be the murderer of his wife". The
Stars are really not good on technical questions.'

The gipsy made no reply of any kind, but, with drooping head and
despondent mien, walked slowly to her tent, and, lifting the curtain,
disappeared.

Without speaking the two men turned homewards, and walked across the
moor. Presently, after some little hesitation, Gerald spoke.

'Of course, old man, this is all a joke; a ghastly one, but still a
joke. But would it not be well to 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