"Did you think it was I?" asked St. George simply.
"Afterward--when I was back in the palace--I thought I must have
dreamed it," she answered, "and no one seemed to know, and _I_
didn't know. But I did fancy--you see, they think father has taken
the treasure," she said, "and they thought if they could hide me
somewhere and let it be known, that he would make some sign."
"It was monstrous," said St. George; "you are really not safe here
for one moment. Tell me," he asked eagerly, "the car you were
in--what became of that?"
"I meant to ask you that," she said quickly. "I couldn't tell, I
didn't know whether it turned aside from the road, or whether they
dropped me out and went on. Really, it was all so quick that it was
almost as if the motor had stopped being, and left me there."
"Perhaps it did stop being--in this dimension," St. George could not
help saying.
At this she laughed in assent.
"Who knows," she said, "what may be true of us--_nous autres_ in the
Fourth Dimension? In Yaque queer things are true.
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