ad to
have a big dose."

"Chloroform!"

"Yes, don't you know? Don't you remember anything?"

"Yes, I was on the hotel porch with Ed."

"With Ed? I wish they had kidnapped Ed, although you are very nice,
and when I heard them putting you in the dark room, where we put the
bad gypsy girls, I insisted upon them bringing you right here. I had
some trouble, Sam is a rough one, but I conquered. And let me tell you
something." She stooped very low and whispered, "Trust me! Don't ask
any questions when the girls are around. You may have everything but
freedom!"

"Am I a prisoner?"

"Don't you remember the gypsy's warning? Didn't Mother Hull warn you
not to go against Salvo?"

"The robber?"

"Hush! They are listening at that door, and I want you to stay with
me. Are you very tired?" She was lighting a cigarette. "I would play
something for you. Do you like music?"

"Sometimes," said Cora, "but I am afraid I am going to cry----"

"That's the reason I want to make some noise. They won't come in here,
and they won't know you are crying. We must make them think you like
it here."

Cora turned and buried her face in the cushions. She realized that she
had been abducted, and was being held a prisoner in this strange place.
But she must--she felt she must--do as the woman told her. Just a few
tears from sheer nervousness, then she would be brave.

"Don't you ever smoke?" asked the queen. "I should die or run the risk
of the dogs except for my cigarettes."

"The risk----"

"Hush! Yes, they have dreadful dogs. I, too, am," she whispered, "a
prisoner. I will tell you about it later."

She picked up an instrument and fingered it. It seemed like the harp,
but it was not much larger than a guitar. The chords were very sweet,
very deep and melodious. She was a skilled musician; even in her
distress Cora could not fail to notice that.

"I haven't any new music," said the queen. "They promised to fetch me
some, but this trouble has kept the whole band busy. Now, how do you
like this?" She swept her white fingers over the strings like some
fairy playing with a wind-harp. "That is my favorite composition."

"Do you compose?"

"Oh, yes, it gives me something to do, and I never could endure
painting or sewing, so I work out pretty tunes and put them on paper.
Sometimes they send them to the printers for me."

"Do you never leave here? Am I in America?" asked Cora.

"Bless you, yes, you are in