The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure
came the noise of someone groping for the handle, followed by a furious
pounding on the wooden panels.
"Open up there, will you!" shouted a hoarse voice.
"Drunk, as usual!" said Keralio contemptuously.
He suddenly threw the door open and the gambler, burly and unsteady on
his legs, almost fell in. He was in evening dress, his collar and tie
rumpled, his hair unkempt. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot.
Reeling in, he hiccoughed:
"What'n h--ll do you live so far up town for? I thought I'd never get
here. Say, this is the end of the world, ain't it? Jumping off place,
eh? Stopped several times on the way to get a drink. My cabby nearly
got lost. Been driving me round for three hours trying to locate the
blooming house. Charged me $5. Hell of a good business, ain't it.
Tain't on the level to treat an old pal that way. Y'oughter be ashamed
o' yourself."
"I'm more ashamed of you--for making such a beast of yourself,"
rejoined Keralio angrily. "Stop your cursed noise or you'll have the
police on top of us!"
Without ceremony, he pushed the newcomer into a seat and made a gesture
to Francois to go. The valet went toward the door.
"Remember," said Keralio warningly. "There must be no blundering. I
want the child brought here----"
"_Oui_, monsieur--it shall be as you say."
The door closed and Keralio turned quietly to the miner. Sternly, and
in a manner that brooked no nonsense, he demanded:
"Did you bring the diamonds?"
Handsome grinned, and pointed to his waist.
"I've got 'em all right!" With another hiccough, he added: "But
there's no hurry, old sport. Let's have a drink before we get talking
business."
In two rapid strides Keralio was up to him. Fiercely he said:
"Give me the stones--give me them I say. We've no time for your d----d
fooling. Hand them over. Come----"
For a moment the gambler just sat and looked at his master. A giant in
physical strength compared with the slightly built foreigner, he could
have overpowered him as a child might crush an egg-shell, but he lacked
the mentality, the magnetism of the Italian. He was cowed, dominated
by the stronger mind. Grumbling, he began to fumble at his waist:
"I don't see what's the hurry."
"But I see," exclaimed Keralio, his eyes growing larger, as he already
saw the colossal stones glittering in his hand.
The next instant Handsome had slid his hand under his waistcoat and
unbuckled a belt he wore next his shirt. Unfastening a pocket and
taking out the contents, he growled:
"Here they are! I'm glad to get rid of the d----d things."
With a cry of exultant joy Keralio took hold of the stones and, going
to the window, greedily feasted his eyes on them. Report had not
exaggerated the value and extraordinary beauty of the gems. They were
worth more than a million.
"What do I get out of it?" whined the gambler.
Keralio regarded him with contempt. Dryly he said:
"You get out of it that you're not sitting in the electric chair for
murdering your twin brother. You get out of it that you're playing the
role of the millionaire, basking in the smiles of your brother's
charming wife, and making a drunken beast of yourself--that's what you
get out of it. Isn't it enough?"
Handsome winced. Keralio had a direct way of saying things to which
there was no answer possible.
"All right," he grumbled, "I'm not kicking."
"No--I wouldn't if I were you."
Changing the topic, Keralio carelessly lit a cigarette and, between the
puffs, asked:
"How's your wife?"
"My wife? You mean his wife?"
Keralio smiled.
"Yours--for the time being."
Handsome scowled.
"It isn't so easy as I thought," he replied. "I don't know if she
suspects something's wrong or not, but ever since that evening she was
called to Philadelphia she avoids me like the pest. I can see in her
face that she's puzzled. 'It's my husband, and yet not my
husband'--that's what she's thinking all the time. I can guess her
thoughts by the expression on her face."
Keralio shrugged his shoulders.
"That's your own fault. I gave you the opportunity. You failed to
profit by it. You got drunk the first night you arrived. Kenneth
Traynor was a temperate man. Is it no wonder you excited wonder and
talk? Then you were stupid under questioning and gave equivocal
answers. Your explanation to Parker about the diamonds was more than
unfortunate; it was idiotic. His suspicions were at once aroused. He
may yet give us trouble before we have time to get rid of the stones.
Finding the wife eluded you, you began to stay out late at night. You
caroused, you drank hard, you gambled--all of which follies your
brother never committed. In other words, you are a fool."
The miner pointed to the diamonds which still lay on the table.
Sulkily he asked:
"Is that all you wanted?"
Keralio put the gems away in his pocket, and pointed to the stacks of
newly printed counterfeit money that lay in stacks all over the floor.
"No, you can help me make up bundles of this stuff."
Handsome opened wide his eyes at sight of the crisp currency. Greedily
he exclaimed:
"Say--that's some money! Ain't they beauties?"
Keralio made an impatient gesture and, taking off his coat, made a
gesture to his companion to do likewise.
"Come--there's no time to talk. We must get rid of it all before
morning. For all I know the detectives may be watching the house now."
CHAPTER XVII
"I'm sure it was Mary," exclaimed Ray positively. "I never did like
the girl. She was sullen and vicious and would stop at nothing to get
even with us for discharging her."
"Perhaps you are right," said Helen, "although it is hard to believe
that a woman would do such a cruel thing to a mother. Just imagine how
worried I was all the way to Philadelphia, only to find when I got
there that no message had been sent, and Dorothy was perfectly well."
It was evening. The two women were sitting alone in the library on the
second floor, Ray busy at her trousseau, Helen helping her with a piece
of embroidery. The master of the house was absent, as usual. He had
not come home to dinner, having telephoned at the last minute that he
was detained at the club, a thing of such common occurrence since his
return from South Africa that Helen had come to accept it as a matter
of course. Indeed, things had come to such a pass that she rather
welcomed his absence. She preferred the sweet, amiable companionship
of her little sister to that of a man who had suddenly become exacting,
over-bearing and quarrelsome.
"Why don't you let Dorothy come home?" asked Ray. "Then you wouldn't
have this constant worry about her."
"I think I will, now that we are more settled and things are quieter.
I wrote to auntie to-day that I might go to Philadelphia one day next
week to bring her home. You are right. I shall not be happy until
she's with me. I have such terrible dreams about her. If anything
were to happen that child, I think it would kill me."
Ray nodded approvingly. Sympathetically, she said:
"Yes, dear. You'll feel better satisfied when she's with you. Besides
she'll be a companion for you--especially when I'm married----"
Helen sighed and turned away her face so her sister should not see the
tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Sorrowfully, she said:
"It will be terrible to lose you, dear. Of course, I'm happy over your
marriage. It would be very selfish in me to want to stand in the way
of your happiness. I'm sure I wish you and Wilbur every joy
imaginable. But I shall certainly feel very lonely when you are gone."
The young girl looked closely at her sister. She realized that her
sister was no longer the happy, contented woman she once was, and she
readily guessed the cause. Helen had not taken her into her
confidence, but she had ears and eyes. Living in the house in such
close intimacy, she could not help noticing that the relations between
the wife and husband were no longer what they had been. Guardedly she
said:
"But you have Kenneth."
Helen sighed and was silent.
Ray looked up. More gently she said:
"Haven't you your husband, dear?"
Her sister shook her head. There was a note of utter discouragement
and melancholy in her voice as she answered:
"He is seldom home--his club seems to have more attraction for him. I
rarely see him except at breakfast time." She was silent for a moment,
and then added quickly: "Would you believe that he hasn't been home a
single night since the time I was called to Philadelphia?"
Ray opened her eyes.
"He's out all night?"
"Yes--all night. The other morning it was seven o'clock when he came
home--and his dress suit and shirt looked as if he had been in a fight."
The young girl put down her work and looked at her sister in dismay.
"Sis!--what's the matter with Ken all at once?"
Helen made no reply, but covering her face with her two hands, burst
into tears. Ray rose quickly and going over to where she was sitting,
sat on the edge of the chair and put her arms about her. Soothingly
she said:
"Don't cry, dear, don't cry. He will soon be himself again. His
terrible experience on the steamer upset him dreadfully. His nervous
system underwent such a shock that it has entirely changed his
character. Wilbur says it is quite a common phenomenon. Only the
other day he read in some medical book an article on that very subject.
The writer says any great shock of that kind can cause a temporary
disarrangement of the moral sense and perceptions. For example, a man
who, under ordinary circumstances is a perfect model of a husband, with
every good quality and virtue, may suddenly lose all sense of conduct
and become am unprincipled _roue_. In other words, we have two natures
within us. When our system is working normally we succeed in keeping
the evil that's in us under control; but following any great shock, the
system is disarranged, the evil gains the ascendancy, and we appear
quite another person. This explains the dual personality about which
Wilbur and I had an argument the other day. Don't you remember?"
Helen nodded. Sadly she said:
"I begin to think you are right. Certainly he has changed. If he had
been like this when I first met him I should never have married him.
It is not the Kenneth I learned to love." Bitterly, she added: "As he
is now, I feel I dislike and detest him. Unless he soon changes for
the better, I shall leave him. In self respect I can't go on living
like this?"
Kissing her sister again, Ray rose and went back to her seat.
Confidently, she said:
"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure everything will be all right soon. You
see if I'm not right. By my wedding day--only three weeks away
now--you'll think as much of Ken as ever----"
"I hope so, dear, but three weeks is a long time to wait----"
The young girl laughed.
"Why that's nothing at all. Just imagine Ken is ill or gone away from
you on a visit for that length of time----"
As she spoke the door opened, and Francois entered with a silver
salver, which he presented to his mistress.
"A letter for Madame."
Helen looked at the envelope and threw it down with a gesture of
impatience. Crossly, she exclaimed:
"Francois, I do wish you'd be more careful. Can't you read. Don't you
see the letter is addressed to Mr. Traynor?"
The valet nodded.
"_Oui_, madame. But as Monsieur is out I thought that possibly
madame----"
Incensed more at the fellow's impudent air than by what he actually
said, Helen lost her temper. Angrily, she exclaimed:
"Don't think. People of your class are not hired to think; they are
paid to do as they are told. You've been very careless in your work
recently. The next time it happens I shall have to tell you to find