This woman, with the brown and crumpled skin and the beady black eyes, was very like some of those wild gipsy folk he had seen from time to time in the forest.

Was it not just possible that she might be one of their tribe, who for some reason or some physical infirmity had abandoned the wandering life, and had set up for a wise woman in the heart of the great city?
Was there not some strange community of knowledge and interest amongst all these wandering people?
and might she not in any case know something about the families of foe and friend, and the loss of the vast treasure one day to be restored?
As his grandmother's name passed his lips, Cuthbert was certain that he saw a flicker pass across the wise woman's face; but she bent her head again over her bowl, and for some minutes remained in deep silence.

Then she looked up and scanned his face again.
"Let me see thy hand," she said.
He held it out fearlessly, and she bent over it for some time.
"It is a good hand," she said at length, "and its owner may look for prosperity in life, But he must heed one thing, and that is his own over-bold rashness.

He must beware of trusting all men.

He must beware of fatal fascination.