"And now, lady--so we can finish this properly--what's your
name?"

Still obeying mechanically, she told him.

He stared for a while, as if the name had awakened associations
in a mind somewhat befogged. He leaned back unsteadily.
Madeline heard the expulsion of his breath, a kind of hard puff,
not unusual in drunken men.

"What name?" he demanded.

"Madeline Hammond. I am Alfred Hammond's sister."

He put his hand up and brushed at an imaginary something before
his eyes. Then he loomed over her, and that hand, now shaking a
little, reached out for her veil. Before he could touch it,
however, she swept it back, revealing her face.

"You're--not--Majesty Hammond?"

How strange--stranger than anything that had ever happened to her
before--was it to hear that name on the lips of this cowboy! It
was a name by which she was familiarly known, though only those
nearest and dearest to her had the privilege of using it. And
now it revived her dulled faculties, and by an effort she
regained control of herself.

"You are Majesty Hammond," he replied; and this time he affirmed