Some powerful force, underlying his whimsical words, gripped the artist's mind--compelling him to search for hidden meanings in the novelist's fanciful suggestions.
A few moments passed in silence before the young man said slowly, "I met a character, yesterday, Mr.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.