THE DEN OF THE GYPSY QUEEN
Cora opened her eyes. Standing over her was a woman--or was it a
dream? A woman with flowing hair, beautiful, dark eyes, a band of gold
like a crown about her head, and shimmering, dazzling stuff on her
gown. Was Cora really awake?
"Well," said the figure, "you are not bad-looking."
"Oh, I am so--sick," moaned Cora.
"I'll ring for something. Would you take wine?"
"No, thank you; water," murmured Cora.
The moments were becoming more real to Cora, but with consciousness
came that awful sickness and that dizziness. She looked at the woman
in the flowing red robes. Who could she be? Surely she was beautiful,
and her face was kind and her manner sweet.
The woman pulled a small cord, and presently a girl appeared to answer.
"What, madam?" asked the girl.
"Some limewater and some milk. And for me, some new cigarettes. Those
Sam brought I could not use. You will find my key in my dressing
table."
She turned to Cora as the girl left. "You may have anything you want,"
she said, "and you need not worry. No harm will come to you. I rather
think we shall be great friends."
She sat down on some soft cushions on the floor.
Then Cora noticed that her own resting place was also on the floor--a
sort of flat couch--soft, but smelling so strongly of some strange
odor. Was it smoke or perfume?
"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked the woman. "I am Helka, the gypsy
queen. That is, they call me that, although I am really Lillian, and I
never had any fancy for this queening." She smiled bitterly. The girl
entered again with a tray and a small silver case. "The water is for
my friend," said the queen, and the girl walked over to Cora. "Do you
think you are strong enough to take milk? Perhaps you would like lime
in it."
"Thank you very much," murmured Cora, "but I am very sick, and I have
never been ill before."
"It is the chloroform. It is sickish stuff, and Sam said you had 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 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 all?
Cora's heart was beating wildly. She could not sleep, although her
eyes were so heavy, and her head ached fiercely. The reaction from
that powerful drug was setting in, and with that condition came all the
protests of an outraged nature. She tossed on her couch. The gypsy
queen heard her.
"What is it?" she asked. "Can you not sleep?"
"I don't know," Cora stammered in reply. "I wonder why they took me?"
"You were to appear against Salvo at his trial, I understood. It was
necessary to stop you. Perhaps that is one reason," said the gypsy.
"But try to sleep."
For some moments there was silence, and Cora dozed off. Suddenly she
awoke with a wild start.
"Oh!" she screamed. "Let me go! Jack! Jack!"
"Hush!" whispered the gypsy. "It would not be safe for them to hear
you." She pressed her hand to the forehead of the delirious girl.
"You must have had a nightmare."
Cora sighed. Then it was not a dream, it was real! She was still a
captive.
"Oh, I cannot help it," she sobbed. "If only I could die!" Then she
stopped and touched the gentle hand that was stroking her brow. "You
must not mind what I say to-night. It has all been so terrible," she
finished.
"But I like you, and will be your friend," assured the voice as the
other leaned so closely toward her. "Yet, I cannot blame you for
suffering. It is only natural. Let me give you some mineral water.
That may soothe your nerves."
The light was turned higher, and the form in the white robe flitted
over to a cabinet. Cora could see that this gypsy wore a thin, silky
robe. It was as white as snow, and in it the young woman looked some
living statue.
"I am giving you a great deal of trouble," Cora murmured. "I hope I
will be able to repay you some day."
"Oh, as for that, I am glad to have something to do. I have always
read of the glory of nursing. Now I may try it. I am very vain and
selfish. All I do I do for my own glory. If you are better, and I
have made you so, I will be quite satisfied."
She poured the liquid into a glass, and handed it to the sick girl.
"Thank you," whispered Cora. "Now I will sleep. I was only dreaming
when I called out."
"They say I have clairvoyant power. I shall put you to sleep."
The gypsy sat down beside Cora. Without touching her face she was
passing her hands before Cora's eyes. The latter wondered if this
might not be unsafe. Suppose the gypsy should hypnotize her into sleep
and that she might not be able to awaken? Yet the sensation was so
soothing! Cora thought, then stopped thinking. Sleep was coming
almost as it had come when the man seized her.
Drowsy, delightfully drowsy! Then sleep!