Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. Permit me to introduce myself. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. “Your mother was a Gypsy. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. ‘Oh, ah. This is retribution. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer.
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