America; but no, to the other question. I
have never left this house or the grounds since I came to America."

"From----"

"England. You see, I am not a noble gypsy, for I live in a house and
have sat on chairs, although they don't like it. This house is an old
mansion in the White Mountains."

"It is your home?" asked Cora timidly.

"It ought to be. They bought it with my mother's money."

Cora sipped the water, then, feeling weak, she took a mouthful of the
milk. Every moment she was becoming stronger. Every moment the
strange scene around her was exciting her interest more fully.

"What time is it?" she asked wearily.

"Have you no idea?"

"Is it morning?"

"Almost."

"And you are not in bed?"

"Oh, I sleep when I feel like it. You see, I have nothing else to do."

Cora wondered. Nothing to do?

"Besides, we were waiting up for you, and I could not go to sleep until
you came."

"You expected me?"

"For days. We knew you were in the mountains."

"How?" asked Cora.

"Because one of our men followed you. He said you almost caught him."

Cora vaguely remembered the man under the auto when they had been
stalled in the hills. That must have been the fellow.

"My friends," stammered Cora, "my brother will be ill of fright, and my
mother----"

"Now, my dear," said the queen, "if you will only trust me, I shall do
all I can for you. I might even get word to your brother. I love
brothers. Once I had one."

"Is he dead?" asked Cora kindly.

"I do not know. You see, I was once a very silly girl. Would you
believe it? I am twenty-five years old!"

"I thought you young, but that is not old."

"Ages. But some day--who can tell what you and I may do?"

In making this remark she mumbled and hissed so that no one, whose eyes
were not upon her at the moment she spoke, could have understood her.

Cora took courage. Perhaps she could help this strange creature.
Perhaps, after all, the imprisonment might lead to something of benefit.

"I could sleep, if you would like to," said Cora, for her eyes were
strangely heavy and her head ached.

"When I finish my cigarette. You see, I am quite dissipated."

She was the picture of luxurious ease--not of dissipation--and as Cora
looked at her she was reminded of those highly colored pictures of
Cleopatra.

It was, indeed, a strange imprisonment, but Cora was passing through a
strange experience. Who could tell what would be the end of it