Lagrange, that might be added to your cast."
"There are several that will be added to my cast," the other answered
dryly.
To which the painter returned, "Did you notice that woman with the
disfigured face, at the depot?"
Conrad Lagrange looked at his companion, quickly. "Yes."
"Do you know her?" questioned the artist.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Only because she interested me, and because she seemed to know your
friends--Mr. Rutlidge and Mrs. Taine."
The novelist knocked the ashes from his pipe by tapping it on the veranda
railing. The action seemed to express a peculiar mental effort; as though
he were striving to recall something that had gone from his memory. "I saw
what happened at the depot, of course," he said slowly. "I have seen the
woman before. She lives here in Fairlands. Her name is Miss Willard. No
one seems to know much about her. I can't get over the impression that I
ought to know her--that I have met and known her somewhere years ago. Her
manner, yesterday, at seeing Mrs. Taine, was certainly very strange." As
if to free his mind from the unsuccessful effort to remember, he rose to
his feet. "But why should she be added to the characters in my novel, Mr.
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