Comfortably seated, with his
back against a rock, he adjusted his field-glass and trained it upon the
little spot of open green--marked by the giant sycamores, the dark line of
cedars, and the half hidden house--where he knew that Sibyl Andres and
Myra Willard were living.
No sooner had he focused the powerful glass upon the scene that so
interested him, than he uttered a low exclamation. The two women,
surrounded by their luggage and camp equipment, were sitting on the porch
with Brian Oakley; waiting, evidently, for the wagon that was crossing the
creek toward the house. It was clear to the man on the mountainside, that
Sibyl Andres and the woman with the disfigured face were returning to
Fairlands.
For some time, James Rutlidge sat watching, with absorbing interest, the
unconscious people in the canyon below. Once, he turned for a brief glance
at the grove of sycamores behind the old orchard, farther down the creek.
The camp of Conrad Lagrange and Aaron King was no longer there. Quickly he
fixed his gaze again upon Sibyl and her friends. Presently,--as one will
when looking long through a field-glass or telescope,--he lowered his
hands, to rest his eyes by looking, unaided, at the immediate objects in
the landscape before him.
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