The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure
steps to secure the diamonds at any cost--even at the price of a human
life."
A chill ran through her, but her voice was firm as she demanded
scornfully:
"You know these men--these murderers?"
"Yes--I know them."
Instantly came the bitter retort:
"Maybe you are one of them!"
His eyes flashed in the darkness and his voice vibrated with passion as
he answered:
"I know you think ill of me. You do me an injustice. I have no share
in these men's operations, but I have great power over them. They must
obey my command. They know that and so respect my orders. A word from
me and your husband will be unmolested."
Like the drowning man who in his agony will grasp eagerly at a floating
straw, Helen seized at the hope his words held out. That Kenneth was
in peril she readily believed. It was a dangerous mission. She had
scented danger from the outset. This man might be lying, and yet he
might have the influence he boasted.
"You can avert the danger?"
He nodded.
"I can."
"How?"
"I will give orders that he be unmolested."
"And they will obey you?"
"They will."
Her face brightened. More amiably she said:
"You'll do this, won't you?"
"Yes--for a price."
"What price?"
"That you recall what you said the other day and restore me to a place
in your friendship."
There was no mistaking his true meaning. It was a price no
self-respecting woman could pay. She rose indignantly, and haughtily
she said:
"You have never had a place in my friendship, Signor Keralio, and you
never will. I see through your motive and I despise you now all the
more. My husband, who is an honorable man, would be the first to have
done with me forever if I entered into any such bargain. He has
mistaken your character. When he returns I will enlighten him, and he
will tell you himself that his wife has no dealings with a scoundrel.
As for your threats, and tale of mysterious danger, I don't believe a
word you say. But I may think it worth while to cable my husband in
order to put him on his guard and to inform the police. Good night!"
Before he could stop her, she had touched an electric bell and left the
room. The next instant Roberts, the butler, appeared and threw open
the front door. There was nothing to do but go.
She had defied him.
CHAPTER X
Eagerly, breathlessly, Helen tore open the cablegram.
It was late Saturday afternoon and she had been with Ray and Mr. Steell
to see some paintings--a private view of a remarkable collection of old
masters. After having tea at the Plaza they had taken a brisk walk
through the Park, the lawyer insisting that the exercise would do them
good.
"It's just come, m'm," said the maid, holding out the thin envelope.
"Oh, it's from Kenneth!" exclaimed Ray excitedly, throwing down her
muff and running to look over her sister's shoulder.
For long, dreary weeks Helen had expected, and waited for, this
message, and now it had come, she was almost afraid to read it. There
were only a few words, cold and formal, the usual matter-of-fact,
businesslike phraseology of the so-much-a-word telegram:
CAPE TOWN, Thursday (delay in transmission). Sail to-day on the
_Abyssinia_. All's well. KEN.
"Is that all?" exclaimed Ray, disappointed.
Mr. Steell laughed.
"How much more do you expect at $2 a word?"
"Well, he might be a little more explicit," pouted Ray. "If I were his
wife, that wouldn't satisfy me."
Helen laughed lightly. Her eyes sparkling, her usually pale cheeks
filled with a ruddy color from her walk in the park, the lawyer thought
he had never seen her looking so pretty.
"It satisfies me," she said, her face all lit up with joyous
excitement. "All I want to know is that he is safe and on his way
home. The cablegram is dated Thursday. Then he's already on the water
three days! I wonder why we didn't hear before?"
Mr. Steell glanced over her shoulder.
"The dispatch has been delayed. Don't you see? It says, 'delayed in
transmission.'"
Helen turned round, her face radiant.
"When ought he to get here?"
The lawyer was silent for a moment as if calculating. Then, looking
up, he said:
"The _Abyssinia_ is not a very fast boat. I suppose she is the best he
could get. She's due at Southampton two weeks from to-day. A week
after that, he ought to be in New York--providing nothing happens."
Helen, who was still reading and re-reading the cablegram, looked up
quickly. With a note of alarm in her voice, she exclaimed:
"Providing nothing happens! What could happen?"
"Oh, nothing serious, of course. In these days of the wireless nothing
ever happens to steamers. One is safer traveling on the sea than on
land. I didn't mean anything serious, but merely that sometimes boats
are delayed by bad weather or by fog. That prevents them arriving on
schedule time."
Almost three months had slipped by since Kenneth's departure from New
York. To Helen it had seemed so many years. She had tried to be
contented and happy for Ray's sake. She entertained a good deal,
giving dinner and theater parties, keeping open house, playing
graciously the role of chatelaine in the absence of her lord, to all
outward appearances as gay and light-hearted as ever. Only Ray and her
immediate friends knew that the gayety was forced.
The poison had done its deadly work. The few words uttered by Signor
Keralio that afternoon shortly after her husband's departure had burnt
deep into her mind like letters of fire. Well she guessed the object
of the wily Italian in speaking as he did. It availed him nothing, and
she only despised him the more. It was cowardly, contemptible, and,
from such a source, absolutely unworthy of belief. Yet secretly it
worried her just the same. She had always considered Kenneth's life an
open book. She thought she knew his every action, his every thought.
The mere suggestion that her husband might have other interests, other
attachments of which she knew nothing took her so by surprise that she
was disarmed, powerless to answer. The innuendo that he might be
unfaithful had gone through her heart like a knife. Of course it was
quite ridiculous. He was not that kind of man. It was true he had
often gone away on trips that seemed unnecessary, and now she came to
think of it Kenneth's absences had of late been both frequent and
mysterious. Then, too, she had no idea of the extent of his operations
in Wall Street. She knew he bought and sold stocks sometimes. That is
only what every investor does. But it was incredible that he was
involved to the extent Keralio said he was. She knew he was ambitious
to acquire wealth, but that he would take such fearful risks and
jeopardize funds which, after all, belonged, not to him, but to the
stockholders--that was impossible. It was a horrible libel.
Still another cause for worry was the health of her little daughter,
Dorothy. Nothing ailed the child particularly, but she was not well.
The doctor said nothing was the matter, but a slight temperature
persisted, together with a cough which, naturally, alarmed the young
mother out of all proportion to the seriousness of the case. The
doctor also advised a change of air, so Helen at once made arrangements
to send her little daughter to Philadelphia, where, in Aunt Carrie's
beautiful house, she would have the best air and attention in the
world. Aunt Carrie came to New York to fetch the child, and, as she
stayed a couple of weeks sight-seeing and visiting friends that also
helped to keep Helen busy.
"I do wish that I didn't have such a worrying disposition"--she laughed
nervously after the lawyer had been at some pains to assure her about
the sea-worthiness of the _Abyssinia_. "Really, it makes me so
unhappy, but I simply can't help it. The other day it was baby who
made me terribly anxious; now it is Kenneth's home-coming. I must seem
very foolish to you all."
Ray quickly protested.
"You sweet thing--how could you look foolish? What an idea! Only
please don't worry, dear. I never do."
Mr. Steell nodded sympathetically.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Traynor. It shows you have a
fine, sensitive nature. It is only the grosser natures that are
callous and unaffected by the anxieties of life."
Taking the remarks to herself, Ray threw up her head indignantly.
"I deny the imputation that I'm gross."
The lawyer laughed.
"You are far too healthy to worry. Moreover, you have nothing to worry
about. If a man you loved were six thousand miles away----"
"Yes," interrupted Helen; "that's it. Only those who care for each
other can understand----"
"Oh, of course!" retorted her sister, flaring up. "We spinsters,
belonging, as we do, to the sisterhood of the Great Unloved, are quite
incompetent to express an intelligent opinion on that or on any other
matter. I grant that, but is Mr. Steell, a confirmed old bachelor, any
more competent than I?"
"Hardly an old bachelor!" interrupted Helen reprovingly.
"No--middle-aged bachelor!" corrected Ray saucily. "He never cared for
a woman in his life. He----"
"Who told you so?" inquired the lawyer quickly, with an amused twinkle
in his eye.
Ray colored visibly.
"Oh, I judge so," she stammered. "You never speak of that sort of
thing. One can only draw conclusions."
"The conclusions may be wrong," he replied gravely. "My life is a very
busy one. I have had no time to think of anything outside my immediate
work. Yet I am human. I sometimes yearn for the companionship of a
good woman. A pretty face attracts me, as it does other men, but, in
my opinion, any such attachment is too serious a matter to be treated
lightly. When a man feels deeply he keeps his own confidence until the
moment comes when he can unburden himself and say what is in his heart."
"I like that," said Helen, nodding her head approvingly.
Ray jumped up to conceal her embarrassment.
"Oh, how terribly serious you two are to-day!" she exclaimed. "I
declare I'll run away unless you cheer up a bit. Suppose I get some
tea?"
"Excellent idea!" laughed the lawyer.
Ray touched a bell, and went to clear a small side table, which she
drew up near where they were sitting.
"There!" she exclaimed, smiling roguishly at the lawyer. "Don't you
think I'm smart?"
"Of course we do." Lowering his voice he added significantly: "At
least I do."
Apparently the compliment fell on deaf ears, for, turning her head
away, she said quickly:
"Please don't be sarcastic."
More seriously, and in the same tone, that even Helen, who was only a
short distance away, could not hear, he said:
"I'm never sarcastic. I think you are all a woman should be."
"Do you mean that?"
"I do. I have thought it for a long time."
"Really?"
"Really."
The young girl colored with pleasure. For all her sophisticated and
independent manner she was still a child at heart. She had no thoughts
of marriage, but it flattered her to think that she had the power to
attract and interest this serious, brilliant man of the world. She
said nothing more, relapsing into a meditative silence as she busied
herself helping the maid to set out the tea table.
To Helen it was a source of keen satisfaction to notice the attention
which the brilliant young lawyer was paying her sister. She had long
recognized his sterling qualities. He was a man of whom any woman
might well be proud. He could not but make a good husband. Next to
Kenneth and her baby no one was dearer to her than Ray and, since their
mother died, she had felt a certain sense of responsibility. To see
her well and happily married was the one secret wish of her life.
But overshadowing these preoccupations at present were those other new