I tossed the brandy in the cup into the fire; it flashed up, and with it a quick memory of the spilt and blazing witch-brew in "Faust." I put the tourist-flask in my pocket, and in a trice had changed my seat and assumed the air of a chance intruder.

In they came, two ladies--one decidedly pretty--and three gentlemen, all of the higher class, as they indicated by their manner and language.

They were almost immediately followed by a Gipsy, the son of my hostess, who had sent for him that he might see me.
He was a man of thirty, firmly set, and had a stern hard countenance, in which shone two glittering black eyes, which were serpent-like even among the Rommany.

Nor have I ever seen among his people a face so expressive of self-control allied to wary suspicion.

He was neatly dressed, but in a subdued Gipsy style, the principal indication being that of a pair of "cords," which, however, any gentleman might have worn--in the field.