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"I am sure that it is much better than the other," he replied. "It is as like you as I can make it." "And is it as beautiful as the other?" "It is beautiful as you are beautiful," he answered. "I shall tell them all about it, to-morrow night even if I haven't seen it. And so will Jim Rutlidge." Aaron King and Conrad Lagrange spent that evening at the little house next door.
It was just past midnight when the three friends parted from young Carleton and crossed the canyon to Sibyl's old home. Facing the Truth As Brian Oakley had predicted, the disappearance of James Rutlidge occupied columns in the newspapers, from coast to coast.
Sibyl had spoken the literal truth when she said to Rutlidge, that she did not want any one to know of the incident. She felt ashamed and humiliated at the thought of telling even her father's old comrade and friend. She knew Brian Oakley too well to have any doubts as to what would happen if he knew how the man had approached her, and she shrank from the inevitable outcome.
"No?" returned Rutlidge, with a rising inflection and a drawling note in his voice that was almost too much for the others. "I really must be going, anyway," he continued. "My party will be some distance ahead. Sure you wouldn't care to join us?" "Thanks! Sorry! but we cannot this time. Good of you to ask us," came from Aaron King and the novelist.
The two men, following, were met by Rutlidge who had made his way back through the grove and the rose garden from the house next door. The dog, with muttering growls, was sniffing suspiciously at his heels. "Czar," said his master, suggestively. With a meaning glance, the dog reluctantly ceased his embarrassing attentions and went to see if everything was all right about the premises.
Taine's picture, provoked characteristic comment. Louise effervesced a frothy stream of bubbling exclamations. James Rutlidge gave a hearty, "By Jove, old man, you have nerve! If you can really improve on that canvas, you are a wonder." And Mr. Taine, under the watchful eye of his beautiful wife, responded with a husky whisper, "Quite right my boy quite right!
He would have killed you, but for the shot that you heard." "And Rutlidge is ?" "He is dead," she answered simply. "But who ?" Briefly, she told him the story, from the time that she had met Mrs. Taine in the studio until the convict had left her, a few minutes before. "And now," she finished, rising quickly, "we must go down to the cabin. There is food there. You must be nearly starved.
"Stop him, please stop him," whispered the girl, her hand upon his arm. "Stay here until I get him out of sight," said the novelist quickly. "I won't let him come into the garden. When we are gone, you can make your escape. Don't forget the music for me, and the key at the gate." He spoke to Czar, and with the dog obediently at heel went forward to meet Mr. Rutlidge, who had called for Mrs.
James Rutlidge stood a few steps away. He had been approaching her as she sat under the tree; but when she sprang to her feet and faced him, he halted. Lifting his hat, he greeted her with easy assurance; a confident, triumphant smile upon his heavy features.
The hunted man became incoherent in his pleading for a chance to prove the sincerity of his wish to live an orderly, respectable, and honest life. "You have a safe hiding place here in the mountains?" asked Rutlidge. "Yes; a little hut, hidden in a deep gorge, over on the Cold Water. I could live there a year if I had supplies." James Rutlidge considered. "I've got it!" he said at last. "Listen!
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