, caused the
man--beside himself with rage, as he was--to draw back. Some mysterious
force that made itself felt in her bold words told him that hers was no
idle threat. A moment they stood face to face, in the edge of the shadowy
orange grove--the man of the world, prominent in circles of art and
culture; and the woman whose natural loveliness was so distorted into a
hideous mask of ugliness. With a short, derisive laugh, James Rutlidge
turned and walked away.

* * * * *

Aaron King and Conrad Lagrange were returning from town. As they neared
their home, they saw one of the Taine automobiles in front of the house.
"Company," said the artist with a smile--thinking of his letter to the
millionaire.

"It's Rutlidge," said the novelist--noting the absence of the chauffeur.

They were turning in at the entrance, when Czar--who had dashed ahead as
if to investigate--halted, suddenly, with a low growl of disapproval.

"Huh!" ejaculated Conrad Lagrange, with his twisted grin. "It's Senior
'Sensual' all right. Look at Czar; he knows the beast is around. Go fetch
him, Czar."

With an angry bark, the dog disappeared around the corner of the porch.
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.

In answer to their greeting and the quite natural question if he had been
waiting long, Rutlidge answered with a laugh. "Oh, no--I have been amusing
myself by prowling around your place. Snug quarters you have here; really,
I never quite appreciated their charm, before."

They seated themselves on the porch. Conrad Lagrange--thinking of Sibyl
Andres and that letter which he had left on the gate--from under his
brows, watched their caller closely; the while he filled with painstaking
care his brier pipe.

"We like it," returned the artist.

"I should think so--I'd be sorry to leave it if I were you. Mr. Taine
tells me you are going to the mountains."

"We're not giving up this place, though," replied Aaron King. "Yee Kee
stays to take care of things until our return."

"Oh, I see. I generally go into the mountains, myself for a little hunt
when the deer seaso