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Updated: May 4, 2025
"I think it will do the trick. But, believe me, there will be consequences!" The artist was in his studio, at work upon the big picture, when Mrs. Taine called, the day of her return to Fairlands. It was well on in the afternoon. Conrad Lagrange and Czar had started for a walk, but had gone, as usual, only as far as the neighboring house. Yee Kee, meeting Mrs.
From where she sat with her back against the trunk of a great pine, she could see far below, and beyond the immediate spurs and shoulders of the range, on the farther side of the gorge out of which she had just come the lower end of Clear Creek canyon, and, miles away, under the blue haze of the distance, the dark squares of the orange groves of Fairlands.
At the foot of the mountain, on the other side of the range, Brian Oakley was setting out to follow the faint trail that started at the supplies brought by the automobile, in the night, from Fairlands. A Hard Way When Sibyl Andrés left the studio, after meeting Mrs.
"Commonplace enough, no doubt, if one only had the key to it." Mrs. Taine had evidently not been in Fairlands long enough to hear the story of Sibyl's disappearance for which the artist mentally gave thanks. "I am glad for one thing," continued the woman, her mind intent upon the main purpose of her call.
There were little stories of his study and success abroad; tactful references to his aristocratic family; entertaining accounts of his romantic life with the famous novelist in the orange groves of Fairlands, and of how, in his California studio among the roses, the distinguished painter was at work upon a portrait of the well-known social leader, Mrs.
His home is in New York, but he has a big house on Fairlands Heights, with large orange groves in this district. He comes here winters for his health. He'll die before long. The effervescing young creature is his daughter, Louise by his first wife. The 'Goddess' who is not much older than his daughter is the present Mrs. Taine." "His wife!"
Among the many little cities half concealed in the luxurious, semi-tropical verdure of the wide valley at the foot of the mountains, Fairlands if you ask a citizen of that well-known mecca of the tourist is easily the Queen.
The artist laughed to hide the embarrassing fact that he was rather pleased to be left to himself with this particular picture. Conrad Lagrange did not, however, refuse to accompany his friend, occasionally, to the house on Fairlands Heights; where the painter continued to spend much of his time. When Mrs.
A moment passed. James Rutlidge stepped from behind the rocks at the other end of the ledge. He was covering the artist with a rifle. In a flash, the man on the trail understood. The automobile, the mirror signals from Fairlands it was all explained by the presence and by the menacing attitude of the man who barred his way. The artist's hand moved toward the weapon that hung at his hip.
If it did come from Fairlands, it must have waited somewhere along the road, to enter the canyon after dark. Do you think that any one else besides Myra Willard and Lagrange and you know that Sibyl started up here?" "I don't think so. The neighbor where she borrowed the horse didn't know where she was going." "Who saw her last?" "I think Mrs. Taine did."
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