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She returned to the hotel to find Dame Beatrice and the two young men in the television lounge, where most of the guests took tea. It was a large, pleasant room, partly formed by having had an extension built on to the original house. This extension had an enormous window overlooking the garden and it acted as a sun-lounge during the day and could be heavily blacked out when the television set was turned on during the evening.

As soon as Laura had washed and changed, Denis rang for tea. Richardson asked her how she had enjoyed her ride. The fact that he was still at liberty, and was also free of the Superintendent for a while, had restored his spirits, and he listened attentively while Laura described her afternoon. He shook his head, though, when she said that she had hopes of obtaining information from a gipsy fortune-teller.

'They just make the stuff up,' he said. 'My mother went to one once and paid the usual two bob and was told she had the usual "lucky hand," and then the gipsy said that if my mother would fork out another five shillings there was plenty more she could tell her, all of it very important indeed. Well, of course, Ma didn't fall for that one, so I'm blessed if the gipsy didn't pick up her hand again and tell her that she had a mean, cheese-paring nature and no sympathy or kindness in her heart.'

Laura laughed. She did not linger over her tea, excused herself to the others, went upstairs for a coat and then strode off to the gipsy's cottage. Lee was not at home, but Eliza, a dark-skinned girl in a red satin blouse and wearing enormous earrings, asked her to come in when she heard her errand. The cottage was clean and smelt of stew, and old Mrs Lee was in the room in which the family lived and ate. There was a well-scrubbed kitchen table in the room, supporting a bird-cage containing two budgerigars. Two little boys, bright-eyed and dirty-faced, were having a wrestling match on a brilliant hearthrug made from 'pieces' and an elderly woman in a rocking-chair stirred them occasionally with her elastic-sided boot while her brown fingers were busy weaving a basket.

The girl spoke to her in a mixture of English and Romany, and the old lady, who was dressed in a dark-grey skirt and a black blouse with an orange-coloured scarf at the throat, looked Laura over and, shaking her head, made an assertion in the Romany tongue and, getting up out of the rocking-chair, motioned Laura to take a seat at the table.

'I'm sorry, lady,' said the girl. 'I want she should take you into the front room, but she says there's no fire in there, and no more there isn't. Nelson, and you, Goliath, out of the way.' The boys took not the slightest notice of this command, so she picked one up in each arm, bundled them into the garden and bolted the back door. That way you will have some peace,' she said.

Laura took the seat indicated, a wooden chair, the old gipsy sat at right-angles to her in a similar one and the girl settled herself in the rocking-chair. The fortune-teller extended an earth-coloured palm, Laura laid on it a two-shilling piece, the gipsy bit the money and put it aside and then reached out for Laura's hand.

'Right-handed, keck-handed?' she asked. Laura admitted that she was right-handed by nature, but was ambidextrous in everything except writing. It was her right hand which the gipsy had grasped. She put it down and took Laura's left hand instead. For a full minute she stared at it, then she reached out for the other hand and silently compared the two. 'Yes,' she said at last. 'You have a lovely nature. You are faithful and true. You have a good husband. His work often takes him away from home. You have no home of your own, but you share two homes with another woman, a woman much older than yourself. She loves you very much, but she never speaks of loving, either to you or anyone else. You have a beautiful child.'

Laura, who would have thought this the last adjective to employ in describing her son, laughed loudly.

'You wouldn't think so, if you knew him,' she said, 'but the rest of what you've told me is quite right.'

'Yes. Why have you come?'

'You know as well as I do. Two men have been murdered in the Forest and an innocent man has been under suspicion-still is, so far as I know. I want the real culprits brought to book, and you must help me.'

'Must? I don't take orders.'

'It wasn't an order. It was a cry from the heart. Won't you help me?'

'Yes. You have a hold over me.'

'Indeed, Mrs Lee? In what way?'

'You come from the north. I see mist and mountains. I see islands and lakes and the sea. I see an old woman, much like me, who can foretell the future. I see life and death in her eyes.'

'My grandmother had the Gift. We call it that in the Highlands. What else can you see?'

The old woman looked at her and held out her hand, dropping Laura's in order to do so. Laura, who considered that she had received very good value for her two-shilling piece, produced a pound note. The gipsy shook her head. Laura returned the money to the handbag she had laid upon the table and took out a five-pound note. The old woman drew it towards her.

'I see you are serious. I knew you were,' she said. 'Put the twenty shillings beside it.' Laura obeyed, although she felt that she was being mulcted of more money than the seance was probably worth, but the gipsy's next words reassured her. 'When I have finished, you will give me one or the other. You have a generous heart.'

'I must have, mustn't I?' said Laura, grinning. 'Can't I tell you what it is I want to know?'

'My son has told me what you want to know. You want to know why two men died because of the ponies. If I tell you, you will be in great danger, although it may be not yourself, but your beautiful son.'

'That will be a change, at any rate.'

'You still wish to know?'

'Of course. My second name is Tammas Yownie. Nothing will be allowed to fickle me.'

The gipsy smiled politely, but did not ask to have the reference explained. She said,

'You should ask the policeman to explain himself. The ponies are not destroyed on the roads.'

'So he was right! He said that more were missing than had ever been destroyed on the roads. But why would a rich man need to steal ponies?'

'Because,' said the gipsy, 'he could buy them only in August, September, October, and then he would need to buy too many. Also, they would still have to run in the Forest until he needed them, because he has nowhere to keep them. That is all I can say, and I do not know the man's name. ' Her fingers closed over the five-pound note. 'You will know more when the danger threatens, so-beware!'

'I see. Well, thanks very much, Mrs Lee.'

'The stallions roam. Nobody can name the father of a Forest foal. When the mares are in labour, the sires are far afield. They roam. If it was not for their markings, nobody would know whence they come. The gentlemen know their own, but only because of the markings.'

'Tell me one thing,' said Laura. 'Is anything involved besides the ponies?'

The old woman stood up, claimed the rocking-chair by a gesture to her daughter-in-law, sat down in it and stowed away the five-pound note. Her daughter-in-law stood by the table beside Laura and then picked up the pound note. Laura nodded. The young woman opened the back door and the two gipsy children rushed in and immediately fell upon one another like a couple of warring fox-cubs. At the same moment the front door opened and Lee came straight through into the room where the others were assembled. He said, straightway, to Laura,

'Did you get what you wanted, my miss?'

'I'm not sure,' Laura replied.

'How much did you pay?'

'Six pounds, altogether.'

'Foolish, very foolish,' he said softly. 'And what is there in it for me?'

'You'll have to ask your women-folk. I'm cleaned right out, I'm afraid.'

'Good enough. Good night to you, then.' Politely he escorted her to the front door. Laura was surprised to find that it was half-past six by the time she got back to the hotel. She went into the bar, expecting to find the others at their favourite table in the window, but they were not to be seen. She went up to Dame Beatrice's room and found her employer playing a complicated game of Patience on the little writing table.