"Yes, it is my audience chamber," was the reply. "Why are you here?"
"I hardly know," said Mrs. Kenyon hurriedly. "I think there must be some mistake. I would go out if I could, but the door is locked."
"They always lock it," said the other composedly.
"Do you live here?" asked Mrs. Kenyon nervously.
"Oh, yes, I have lived here for five hundred years, more or less."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Kenyon, terror-stricken.
"I said more or less," repeated the woman sharply. "How can I tell within fifty years? Do you know who I am?"
"No."
"You have often heard of me," said the other complacently. "The whole world has heard about me. I am Queen Cleopatra."
Mrs. Kenyon knew where she was now. She realized it with a heart full of horror. But what could it mean? Could Mr. Kenyon have left her there intentionally? In spite of all she had learned about it she could hardly credit it.