CHAPTER XIX
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!