Murder mask
merrymaking came to them as though from far away.
"How dare you!" Nita expostulated furiously with a stamp of her foot.
"How dare you, Tom!"
He stood glaring at her fixedly, breathing hard, his slim hands
clenched until the knuckles showed like chalk. Her eyes were pools of
fire. Her breasts heaved tumultuously.
"You have been hateful tonight, Tom!" She dabbed frantically at her
eyes with a lacy handkerchief. "You have humiliated me terribly!"
He remained silent.
"You actually tore me out of Tony's arms just now!" she went on
scathingly. "You actually flung me in here!"
Romani swallowed hard.
"You'll have to apologize to Tony."
He dismissed the suggestion with a shrug.
"You'll have to!" she insisted.
"You've been dancing with Tony all night!" he rasped savagely. "Every
time I looked up, it seemed, he was holding you in his arms with his
dirty eyes undressing you."
"Tom!"
"I asked you not to dance with him so often."
"You're being ridiculous!"
"You've been acting deliberately contrary to my wishes." He didn't hear
her. "I pleaded with you but you persisted. It made my blood boil. I
saw red, while Tony exulted. Finally, I commanded you to dance no more
with him. After all, you are my wife, you know. You laughed in my face."
She tossed her head like a spoiled child.
"Hear it, Nita!" He eagerly took a step toward her. "The last dance!
Shall we waltz it together?"
"No!" She meant to punish him for his show of jealousy.
Romani recoiled as though from a slap in the face.
"I shall dance it with Tony," she told him airily. "Let me pass!"
She started to brush past her husband, as the draperies parted and
Colletti appeared.
"Nita," he began, "you----"
With a nerve-tearing snarl, Romani flashed his slender-bladed dagger
and lunged.
"Oh!" Nita started to scream. "Tom, you----"
Her strangled shriek ended in a gurgling gasp, as the dagger sheathed
itself to the hilt in her bosom. Blood gushed and bubbled around the
buried blade. An expression of mingled bewilderment, surprize and
incredulity flitted over her ghastly, painted face, as Romani caught
his crumpling wife in his arms.
"Nita!" he croaked, his red rage dropping from him like a discarded
cloak. "Speak to me, sweet! Nita! Nita! Nita! Good God! What have I
done?"
"You've killed her, Tom!" Colletti could not keep the oily satisfaction
from his voice. "You have murdered her!"
"Nita!" Romani was beside himself with grief. "Speak to me, dear! I
wouldn't hurt you! I wouldn't! I'd die first!"
He covered her face with kisses.
"Nita! Nita! Nita!"
She hung limp in his embrace.
"Speak to me, darling!" he beseeched, as he tore off his mask and flung
it across the shadowy alcove. "I love you! I love you! Speak to me,
Nita!"
"It's no use, Tom!" Colletti mocked him. "She's dead!"
Romani seemed to become aware of the other man's presence.
"This means the electric chair for you, Tom," Colletti cruelly reminded
his cousin. "You have murdered her."
For clock-ticks that seemed eternities Romani stared hard at the
speaker. Gently he lowered his dead wife to the thick-piled rug.
Carefully he pulled the dagger from her breast. Tenderly he closed her
eyes, crossed her hands on her bloody bosom and straightened her limbs.
"Thanks to the mask," Colletti pointed, "you have murdered your wife,
Tom." He handed the anguished man the time-yellowed card. "Soon you'll
be walking through that little green door."
"I can't live without you, Nita!" Romani declared brokenly, as he
deciphered the faded legend. "I won't!"
"The state will attend to that, Tom," Colletti jeered. "You need have
no worries on that score."
* * * * *
Romani retrieved the discarded mask and, whirling on Colletti, thrust
it at him.
"Put it on!" he ordered bruskly and tickled his cousin's ribs with his
blood-smeared dagger. "Put it on or I'll drive this steel into your
devil's heart!"
Colletti paled and gulped and hesitated.
"Put it on!" Romani reiterated huskily, increasing the pressure of
the dagger, while with his free hand he tore the death mask from his
cousin's face. "Hurry!"
With trembling fingers Colletti adjusted the red silk mask over his
twitching features.
"_Who wears this mask!_" Romani growled, as through the muted strains
of the waltz the weary revelers chorused _Good-night, Ladies_. "It's
your turn now, Tony! _Is doomed to slay!_ Murder, Tony! _Whom he loves
best!_ That's yourself, Tony! You're going to kill yourself! You've
never loved anybody but yourself! _Ere break of day!_ Which isn't far
off! You'll have to hurry, Tony! You haven't much time!"
Like a man suffering the tortures of the damned, Colletti's whole body
was writhing horribly. His palsied hands clawed at his throat. He
appeared to be wrestling with an invisible antagonist.
"_Whom he loves best!_" Romani repeated hoarsely. "You're taking your
own worthless life, Tony! Hurry!"
The crimson mask moving to his labored breathing, Colletti fumbled
inside the hideous grave garments he was wearing. His groping hands
brought a tiny vial to light.
"_Is doomed to slay!_" Romani hissed, stepping back, for the coercion
of the dagger was no longer needed. "_Whom he loves best!_"
While Romani watched him balefully, Colletti slowly lifted the
fluttering mask with his left hand, while with his right he tilted the
bottle on his mouth. With a hollow gulp he drained its contents. His
hands dropped like leaden plummets. For a split second he steadied.
Then a tremor shook him from heels to crown. He swung half-way around,
recovered, his knees buckled and he collapsed on his face. Romani
rolled him over, nudged him callously with his foot, stooped and
listened to his heart.
"Dead!" he mumbled and straightened. "Gone to the hell where he
belongs!"
He sank on his knees beside his dead wife. Tenderly he kissed her cold
eyes, her carmined lips, the little hollow at the base of her throat.
"Coming, Nita!" he spoke as though replying to an urgent summons and
plunged the dagger into his own heart. "Com----"
He pitched forward over the dead woman. The music and the singing
ceased. The gray dawning peered in at the window.