Free The Return of the Gypsy by Philippa Carr Page B

earnestly together. I daresay this will mean a guest for dinner. I’ll go down and see. Now put on your stockings quickly. You’ll be heated from the mustard. You don’t want to catch cold.”
    “Really, Mother,” I protested. “All this because of a little rain.”
    “I don’t want you in bed with a cold. I have enough to do without that.”
    In a way it was pleasant to be looked after and made to feel precious.
    Then my thoughts were back with Romany Jake.
    I went downstairs to see who had arrived. The whole family were gathered there with my father and mother. Claudine, David and Amaryllis. They were talking excitedly.
    My father said: “This is my daughter Jessica. Jessica, this is Mr. Frederick Forby.”
    Mr. Forby bowed and my father went on: “Do you remember the gypsy they called Romany Jake?”
    I felt dizzy. I hoped I did not show how shaken I was.
    “Mr. Forby is looking for him. We have to be on the watch.”
    “Romany Jake?” I repeated.
    “I thought he might come this way,” said Mr. Forby to my father. “We’re going to all the old haunts and I believe they were here last year.”
    “Yes,” said my mother. “It was October. I remember they were at the Trafalgar bonfire.”
    “October,” repeated Mr. Forby. “And not since?”
    “Oh no, not since,” said my mother. “We should have been aware of them if they had been here.”
    “They set my woods on fire,” put in my father. “I turned them off the land after that.”
    “They say he is wanted for murder,” said David.
    “That’s so,” said Mr. Forby.
    “He’s a real villain then.”
    “These gypsies have to be watched, sir. It’s usually petty crimes. Murder! Well, I have to say that’s rare enough. But we’re determined to get him.”
    “Who was the victim?” asked Claudine.
    “He was the nephew of the local squire. They were encamped near Nottingham.”
    “Oh dear, that’s bad,” said my mother. “I thought perhaps it might have been a quarrel in the camp.”
    “Oh no, the gypsy attacked the young man and killed him.”
    “I hope they catch him,” said my mother.
    I heard myself say in a rather high-pitched voice: “Why did he kill this man … the nephew of the squire?”
    “Some quarrel over a girl. They’re a hot-blooded lot, these gypsies.”
    I had to control myself. I wanted to shout: A quarrel over a girl! The squire’s nephew tried to rape her. Romany Jake was quite right to do what he did. Any man of chivalry would have done the same.
    I must be careful. I must not betray the fact that I had seen him. I should somehow have to warn him that this man Forby was in the neighbourhood. I must be wary. He never should have come here.
    They were talking about him. “A colourful sort of fellow as I remember,” said my father.
    “I gather he is not a real gypsy.”
    “What’s he doing living with them then?”
    “It’s all rather odd. In fact he’s an odd fellow. We’ve been making enquiries. It seems he comes from quite a good family … somewhere in Cornwall. He’s known as an eccentric.”
    “Who goes round committing murders,” said my mother.
    “We don’t know of any others,” I said. “And it wasn’t murder. It was this girl…”
    “Murder is murder, my dear young lady,” said Mr. Forby. “It is my job to see that the guilty are brought to justice.”
    “But you said it was a quarrel over a girl. Perhaps …”
    My father was looking at me with raised eyebrows and Mr. Forby went on: “We expect a bit of trouble with the gypsies. He seems to be a sort of leader in spite of not being one of them. Cornish name of Jake Cadorson. Romany Jake is just a nickname.”
    “I remember the fellow,” said my father. “I quite liked his manner. He was reasonable enough when I went to order them off my land.”
    “Hot-blooded,” said Mr. Forby.
    “Where are they searching for him?” I asked.
    “All along the coasts. I’ve got my men out. We’re determined to get him. He’ll try to