in a closed carriage and driven to a house, which she soon
learned was a house of ill-fame. On reaching this place she was carried
to a room in a secluded part of the building. Her husband then informed
her where she was and that here she would have to remain. That he was
done with her, and for her to give his regards to her mother if they
ever met again; that he was much obliged to her for the $8000 in cash,
and that he wished her a good time with the madam. Estelle fainted, and
this devil turned on his heels, walked away and has never been heard of
since. The madam knew how to treat girls who fainted, for she had seen
them faint in her house before, and she brought Estelle back to
consciousness. Who can picture now the horrors which rose up before
Estelle? It can not be done, and I must leave it for the imagination of
the reader. In vain did Estelle beg and plead to be let go. Useless were
her piteous moans for freedom. The madam told her that she had bought
her and paid for her, and that she was going to keep her; that the best
thing she could do was to quiet down and submit to her fate willingly,
and was informed of what she was expected to do and had to do. The madam
told her that she had often paid as much as $100 for pretty girls like
her, but that she only had to pay $50 for her by solemnly promising that
she would not let her get away. Three months she was confined in this
prison. It is beyond the power of man to describe the darkness, the
blackness, the fearfulness and the horrors of her life now. Her only
hope was the words of William Scott. She knew that he meant every word
he said, and would rescue her if possible. How could he find her, was
the question she would ask herself in her despair. Yet she hoped against
hope that in some way or other he would find her.

Three months had passed away and the mother of Estelle had heard no
tidings of her child. She was wild, she was frantic, she was mad. The
terrible strain had been more than she could bear. She became a maniac,
and in her ravings she would call for Estelle to come back to her. She
would talk of nothing but Estelle. Amanda Ramon had destroyed her own
life and the life of her child.

Where is William Scott, the child playmate, the youthful lover of
Estelle, the one who promised to defend her?

William Scott had believed that the "artist" was a scoundrel the first
time he laid eyes on him. No sooner had suspicions of foul play been
aroused in the ne