Mountain advocate., 1914-05-15
CHAPTER ~.
Captive or Runaway.

Captive or Runaway.
At the age of twenty-six Donald Alb
bott had become prosperous and dis
hnguished painter In water colors
His work was individual, and at the
same time ii was delicate and charm
ing. One saw his Italian landscapes
as through a filmy gauze; the almond
blossoms of Sicily, the rose-laden walls
OF Florence, the vineyards OF CHANT
the poppy-glowing Campagna out OF
Rome. His Italian lakes had brought
him fame. He knew very little Of the
grind and hunger that attended the
careers of his whilom associates. His
father had left him some valuable pat
ents-wash-tubs, carpet-cleaners and
other labor-saving devices-and the
royalties from these were quite suf.
fcient to keep him pleasantly housed.
His earnings mot inconsiderable,
for tourists found much to admire in
both the pictures and the artist) he
spent 10 gratifying his mild extrava-
gances. So there we're no lines In his
handsome, boyish, beardless face; and
his eyes were unusually clear and
happy. Perhaps once or twice, since
his ma1ority, he had returned to Amer.
lea to prove that he was not an ex-
patriate, though certainly he was one,
the only tie existing between him and
his native land being the bankers who
regularly honored his drafts. And who
shall condemn him for preferring Italy
to the desolate center of New York
state, where good servants and good
weather are as rare as are fawless
emeralds?
Half after three, on Wednesday aft
ernoon, Abbott stared moodily at the
weather-tarnished group by Dalou In
the Luxembourg gardens-the Tri-
umph Of Silenus. His gaze was de-
ceptive. for the rollicking old bibulous
scoundrel had not stirred his critical
sense nor impressed the delicate films
1f thought. He was looking through
ne bronze, into the far-away things
He had arrived early that morning, all
the way from Como, to find thunder
bolt driven in at his feet Across his
the Paris edition of the New York
Herald. All that kept it from blowing
away was the tense If sprawling fin
gers OF his right hand; his left hung
Imply at his side.
II was not possible. Such things did
not happen there unramantic days to
musical celebrities. She had written
that on Monday night she would sing
IN La Boheme and on Wednesday,
Faust. She had since vanished, van
ished as completely as though she had
taken wings and flown away. It was
unreal. She had left the apartment
IN the Avenue de Wagram on Satur-
day afternoon, and nothing had been
seen or heard OF her since. At the
last moment they had had to find a
substitute for her part In the Puccini
opera. The maid testified that her
mistress had gone on an errand OF
mercy. She had not mentioned where,
but she had said that she would return
In time to dress for dinner, which
proved conclusively that something
out OF the ordinary had befalIen her.
The automobile that had carried her
away had not been her own, and the
chauffeur was unknown. None OF the
directors at the opera had been noti-
ded OF any change in the singers
plans She had disappeared, and they
were deeply concerned. Singers were
generally erratic, full OF sudden indis-
positions, unaccountable whims; but
the SignOrina da Toscana was one in
q thousand. She never broke an en-
gagement II she was i'll she said SO
at once; she never left them in doubt
until the last moment. Indecision was
not one of her characteristics. She
was as reliable as the sun. II the d.
rectors did not hear definitely from
her by noon today, they would have TO
ind another Marguerite.
The police began TO move, and they
stirred up some curious bits OF infor-
nation. A man had Sriod TO bribe the
singers chauffeur, while she was sing.
ing at the Austrian ambassadors. The
chauffeur was able TO describe the
stranger with some accuracy. Then
came the bewildesing episode In the
apartment; the pistol-shot. the flight
Of the man, the astonished concierge
70 whoLi the beautiful American would
offer no explanations. The man (who
s.Iiied with the description given bY