orgio shall take her to his
home. She belongs to my tent, and I will take her there."

Her gesture of contempt, anger and negation infuriated him. "If I do
not take you to my 'tan', it will be because I'm dead," he said, and his
white teeth showed fiercely.

"I have set you free. You had better go," she rejoined quietly.

Suddenly he turned at the doorway. A look of passion burned in his eyes.
His voice became soft and persuasive. "I would put the past behind me,
and be true to you, my girl," he said. "I shall be chief over all the
Romany people when Duke Gabriel dies. We are sib; give me what is mine.
I am yours--and I hold to my troth. Come, beloved, let us go together."

A sigh broke from her lips, for she saw that, bad as he was, there was
a moment's truth in his words. "Go while you can," she said. "You are
nothing to me."

For an instant he hesitated, then, with a muttered oath, sprang out into
the bracken, and was presently lost among the trees.

For a long time she sat in the doorway, and again and again her eyes
filled with tears. She felt a cloud of trouble closing in upon her. At
last there was the sound of footsteps, and a moment later Gabriel Druse
came through the trees towards her. His eyes were sullen and brooding.

"You have set him free?" he asked.

She nodded. "It was madness keeping him here," she said.

"It is madness letting him go," he answered morosely. "He will do harm.
'Ay bor', he will! I might have known--women are chicken-hearted. I
ought to have put him out of the way, but I have no heart any more--no
heart; I have the soul of a rabbit."

CHAPTER VIII. THE SULTAN

Ingolby's square head jerked forwards in stern inquiry and his eyes
fastened those of Jowett, the horsedealer. "Take care what you're
saying, Jowett," he said. "It's a penitentiary job, if it can be proved.
Are you sure you got it right?"

Jowett had unusual shrewdness, some vanity and a humorous tongue. He
was a favourite in both towns, and had had the better of both in
horse-dealing a score of times.

That did not make him less popular. However, it was said he liked low
company, and it was true that though he had "money in the bank," and
owned a corner lot or so, he seemed to care little what his company was.
His most constant companion was Fabian Osterhaut, who was the common
property of both towns, doing a little of everything for a living, from
bill-posting to the solicitation of an insurance agent.

Fo