parted yesterday at the camp.'

And she sprang up to go.

'No, don't leave me,' I said; 'wait till she comes to us. She's sure
to come quite soon enough. Depend upon it she is eager to see how her
_coup de theatre_ has prospered.'

'I must really go to her,' said Winifred; 'ever since we left
Hurstcote I have fallen in with her wishes in everything.'

'But why?'

'Because I am sure from Mr. D'Arcy's words that she has rendered me
some great service, though what it is I can't guess in the least.'

'But what are really the plans of the day of this important Gypsy?'

'There again I can't guess in the least,' said Winifred. 'Probably
the walk to the top and then down to Llanberis, and then on to
Carnarvon, is really to take place, as originally arranged--only with
the slight addition that _some one_ is to join us! I shall soon be
back, either alone or with Sinfi, and then we shall know.'

She ran up the path. Against her wish I followed her for a time. She
moved towards the same dangerous ledge of rock where I had last seen
her on that day before she vanished in the mist.

I cried out as I followed her, 'Winnie, for God's sake don't run that
danger!'

'No danger at all,' she cried. 'I know every rock as well as you know
every boulder of Raxton Cliffs.'

I watched her poising herself on the ledge; it made me dizzy. Her
confidence, however, was so great that I began to feel she was safe;
and after she had passed out of sight I returned to the llyn where we
had breakfasted.

Sinfi's music ceased, but Winifred did not return. I sat down on the
rock and tried to think, but soon found that the feat was impossible.
The turbulent waves of my emotion seemed to have washed my brain
clear of all thoughts. The mystery in connection with Sinfi was now
as great as the mystery connected with the rescue of Winifred from
the mattress in Primrose Court. So numbed was my brain that I at last
pinched myself to make sure that I was awake. In doing this I seemed
to feel in one of my coat pockets a hard substance. Putting my hand
into the pocket, I felt the sharp corner of a letter pricking between
a finger and its nail. The acute pain assured me that I was awake. I
pulled out the letter. It was the one that the servant at the
bungalow had given me in the early morning when I called to get my
bath. I read the address, which was in a handwriting I did not
know:--

'HENRY AYLWIN, ESQ.,
'Carnarvon, North Wales.'

The Carnarvon p