Part 20 (1/2)

Suddenly the tent flap opened, and Grace and Mollie rushed in. Before either of them spoke, they turned and fastened the flap down again securely, so no one could enter without their knowing it.

”What's the matter?” asked Ruth and Bab at once, for it was plain to see their visitors were greatly excited.

Grace and Mollie started talking together. ”Mrs. Cartwright's diamond b.u.t.terfly--” then they both stopped. ”Are you sure no one can hear?

Mollie, you tell,” finished Grace.

”The b.u.t.terfly has gone, vanished right off Mrs. Cartwright's frock, this afternoon, while she was talking to her visitors. You know, she changed the ornament she wore in her hair into a brooch. She showed it to me early this afternoon, when I first came, and now-it is gone! I tell you, girls, there's a thief among these Newport people. I think it, and so does Mrs. Cartwright, and ever so many others. Promise you'll never tell,” went on Mollie, ”but there are two detectives here watching all the guests! I'd like to find the thief myself. I'd know Mrs.

Cartwright's b.u.t.terfly anywhere.”

There were noises at the tent door.

Barbara heard Gladys's high, querulous voice, saying, coquettishly: ”I don't want my fortune told, Harry. I would much rather you told it to me any way.” But Mr. Townsend insisted.

”Fly, girls-do, please! They are coming in!” said Barbara. ”No; you can't get out, but you must stay perfectly still behind this curtain, and not breathe a single word.”

It was almost entirely dark in the gypsy tent, the only light coming from the burning pot of fire on the table. Barbara stooped low, when she opened the door to allow Harry, Gladys and the Countess Bertouche to come in.

”It groweth late,” Bab began, croakingly. ”Evil may come. No good fortunes fall between dusk and darkness. Beware!”

Gladys shuddered. ”Let's not go in,” she urged.

But Harry Townsend only laughed. ”Don't let the old hag frighten you,”

he retorted, lightly. ”Here,” he turned to the gypsy and spoke in a voice no one of the girls had ever heard him use, ”here, you old swindler, speak out! What kind of fate do you read for me in the stars?”

Barbara picked up the pack of dirty cards, and began to shuffle them slowly. An idea was revolving in her head. Dared she do it? But Barbara was a girl who was not easily daunted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Harry Townsend's Face Grew Livid.]

After a minute of silence she shook her head. ”What I see I dare not reveal,” she whined. ”All black, dark, dark mystery!”

”Oh, stuff!” jeered Mr. Townsend. ”Don't try that dodge on me. Tell what you know.”

Barbara flung down the cards and blew three puffs into the smouldering pot of fire. Ashes and tiny flames shot up from it. She started back, then pointing a finger, she hissed: ”Something is moving toward you, curving and coiling and twisting round you. Mercy!” she cried. ”It is a green snake, and its fangs have struck into your soul!”

Harry Townsend's face grew livid. In a moment the look of youth vanished from his face, his lips turned blue, and his eyes narrowed to two fine points.

The Countess Bertouche came forward. ”Harry,” she said, ”come away. You forget yourself. Don't listen to such nonsense.”

”Harry!” thought Gladys to herself, angrily. ”She certainly presumes on a short acquaintance! Harry, indeed!”

But Barbara had not finished.

”Stay!” she said, holding up a warning finger. ”Another messenger appears. It is a beautiful, bright thing, sparkling and darting toward you. Why,” she added, quickly, ”it is lighting on your coat. It has flown inside-a beautiful b.u.t.terfly, born of summer time and flowers.

Or”-this time Barbara leaned over and whispered in his ear-”or it may be made of diamonds and come from a jeweler's shop.”

For an instant, Harry Townsend's hand flew to his vest pocket. He rose, saying quietly to his companions: ”Come away from here. Did you ever see such a stupid old fraud? A snake and a b.u.t.terfly-a curious fortune indeed!”

CHAPTER XVIII-A WORD TO THE WISE