Death came on rapidly in deep, resounding roars, and the misery of the cringing, suffering brute was unfolded—told in heart-rending intonations, until at last he gave up his breath in one terror-stricken cry.
Jinnie dropped her hands suddenly. “He’s dead,” she said tremulously. “Poor, poor lion!”
She turned tear-wet eyes to Theodore King.
“Shall I play any more?” she asked, shyly.
The man shook his head, not permitting himself to speak.
“Miss Grandoken has given us a wonderful entertainment,” said he to his friends; then turning to her, he held out his hand, “I want to thank you, Miss Grandoken.”
Many people crowded around her, asking where and how she had learned such music.
Molly the Merry, the mystified expression still on her face, drew near.
Again Jinnie smiled at her, hoping the lovely lips would acknowledge their former acquaintanceship. But as another person, a man, stepped between her and the woman, Jinnie glanced up at him. He was very handsome, but involuntarily the girl shuddered. There was something in the curling of his lips that was cruel, and the whiteness of his teeth accentuated the impression. His eyes filled her with dread.
“Where did you learn that wonderful music?” he smiled.... “I mean the music itself.”