glance, and Lambert, holding his heart between his teeth, returned to
the studio. Neither one of the two noticed Chaldea crouching amongst the
flowers. Had they been less pre-occupied, they might have done so; as it
was she escaped observation.

As soon as the coast was clear, Chaldea stole like a snake along the
ground, through the high herbage of the garden, and beyond the circle of
the mysterious monoliths. Even across the lawns of the glade did she
crawl, so as not to be seen, although she need not have taken all this
trouble, since Lambert, with a set face and a trembling hand, was
working furiously at a minor picture he utilized to get rid of such
moods. But the gypsy did not know this, and so writhed into the woods
like the snake of Eden--and of that same she was a very fair
sample--until, hidden by the boles of ancient trees, she could stand
upright. When she did so, she drew a long breath, and wondered what was
best to be done.

The most obvious course was to seek Ishmael and make a lying report of
the conversation. That his wife should have been with Lambert would be
quite enough to awaken the civilized gypsy's jealousy, for after all his
civilization was but skin deep. Still, if she did this, Chaldea was
clever enough to see that she would precipitate a catastrophe, and
either throw Agnes into Lambert's arms, or make the man run the risk of
getting Pine's knife tickling his fifth rib. Either result did not
appeal to her. She wished to get Lambert to herself, and his safety was
of vital importance to her. After some consideration, she determined
that she would boldly face the lover, and confess that she had overheard
everything. Then she would have him in her power, since to save the
wife from the vengeance of the husband, although there was no reason for
such vengeance, he would do anything to keep the matter of the visit