recently.

They press him hard, and he can see no hope of escaping with his life.

In the midst of his mental torture he opens his eyes, and the
disagreeable features of the case are suddenly swept away.

Where can he be? Soft music throbs upon the scented air, he hears the
gentle plash of a fountain in a court near by; a mellow light, anything
but garish, shows him the most luxurious surroundings, silks and
velvets, brightness in color and gorgeousness in taste, everywhere.

This amazes him; almost takes his breath away; it is so different from
his dream, which left him in a desperate hole.

His mind seems dull of comprehension, which must be the effect of the
drug, so that for a brief time he is unable to understand the situation,
or grasp his condition.

Then it dawns upon him, the mission that took him away from the hotel;
and having reached that point, he is wrestling with what must have
followed when something touches his face, something that is cool and
pleasant--the soft, white hand of a woman.

Then Doctor Chicago's eyes flash open again, and he looks up startled;
he has just recollected Lady Ruth's story, and a wild hope rushes into
existence, a hope that could not be put into words, but which takes the
form of an idea that she whom the English girl met as Sister Magdalen,
his mother, is near.