The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure
"Oh, I don't mean you. I know you are not that kind of woman. You are
more serious, more sensible. I mean the average society woman whose
only concern in life is dress and show. We men have different aims,
higher ambitions. I'm well to do, as the term goes. I have an income
of over $100,000 a year, a splendidly appointed town house, a show
place in the country. Above all I have the most adorable wife in all
the world. Most men would be satisfied. I am not. I want still more.
I have the money craze, an uncontrollable lust to pile up millions. My
ambition is to wield the power that only the possession of vast wealth
confers. The resources of this vast country are practically in the
hands of half a dozen men. Merely by holding up a finger, these men
could, to suit their own selfish ends, start a universal panic which
might bring about a financial cataclysm, involving the whole world in
disaster. I do not say they would use this power for evil, but they
are in position to do so if it served their purpose. I want to have
such power, only if I had it I would not use it for evil. I would use
it for good. Conditions in the industrial world are very critical. We
are rapidly approaching a crisis. In all countries the forces of labor
and the forces of capital are lined up in silent, grim battalions. The
poor are getting poorer; the rich are getting richer. The cost of
living is going up beyond all reason. Why? Because the men who
control the wealth of the world will it so. The system which is
responsible for this must one day, sooner or later, give way to another
and more humane system, still to be devised, which will enable the man
who produces the wealth of the world at least to enjoy some of the
fruits of his toil. Now it goes into the hands of the privileged few
who use the power their money gives them to keep their less fortunate
fellow men in servile subjection. I want to be rich, very rich, but I
will use my wealth for good. With it I will help my fellow man rise
from the mire. I will help him throw off the shackles with which
conscienceless capitalism has fettered him. I want to be such a power
for good. I want----"
The maid reentered the room.
"Francois is not in his room, m'm."
Kenneth gave vent to an exclamation of impatience. Turning to his
wife, he asked:
"Where is he? Did you send him anywhere?"
Helen shook her head. Quickly she said:
"He's never around except when he's not wanted."
It was so seldom that his wife displayed irritation at any one that
Kenneth looked up in surprise.
"He's shopping, too, I suppose. You know there's little time left and
he has things to get ready the same as I have."
Helen made a gesture of disapproval. Quickly she said:
"I wish you were going with someone else, with anyone but that man. I
never liked him."
Her husband laughed. Carelessly he replied:
"I know you never did and it's the only instance since we're married
where I've found dear little wife to be absolutely unfair. Seriously,
sweetheart, your baseless prejudice against Francois is unworthy of
you. I can't go without a servant of some kind. He's an honest fellow
and a faithful servant."
Helen shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not so sure about that," she retorted quickly. "What do you know
about him or his honesty? He's a perfect stranger that blew in three
months ago from nowhere. He had written recommendations which may be
forged. You never took the trouble to look them up."
"Yes, I did. I asked Keralio about him."
Helen looked up in surprise.
"Signor Keralio? I didn't know Francois was ever with him."
"He was with him nearly a year. Keralio warmly recommends him and says
he is a very faithful fellow. He only left him because he objected to
being compelled to practise sword-play with his master. One day
Keralio's foil slipped. Francois got a puncture and it made him
nervous."
"No wonder I don't like him. Like master, like valet--as the French
say."
Her husband smiled.
"You are down on Keralio, aren't you?"
"I detest him. How could any self-respecting woman like such a man?
His every glance is an insult. With his polished manners and sardonic
smile he reminds one of Mephistopheles."
"I don't fancy the fellow much myself, but I have to be polite to him.
As I told you, he's in with the people who own that silver mine. I've
found him useful."
"Don't trust him," replied Helen warningly. "If he makes himself
useful to you, depend upon it, he has some ulterior motive in view.
Now I know Francois was once with him I shall dislike him more than
ever."
"Come--come dear," protested Kenneth, "that is carrying things too far.
Francois is quite a decent chap if you understand him--I find him
faithful, discreet."
"Discreet!" echoed Helen mockingly. "I beg to differ."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you are blinded in the man. Discreet indeed! Only the
other day I caught him at your desk reading a letter which you had left
there."
"A letter?" exclaimed Kenneth, looking up in surprise. "What letter?"
"The letter from your agent at Cape Town, telling of the astonishing
diamond find, and suggesting that an officer of the Company be sent out
to bring home the big stone--the letter you read at the director's
meeting and which decided them to send you out there."
Kenneth bit his lip. Quickly he said:
"I'm sorry he saw that. It was careless of me to leave it around. Are
you sure he was reading it?"
"He had a pencil and paper in hand and appeared to be copying from the
letter. When he saw me, he crushed the paper up in his hand and turned
away."
Kenneth gave an expressive whistle.
"The deuce you say! The fellow's smarter than I took him to be. All
the more reason why I should take him along with me. Then I'm sure he
can't tell tales out of school. I----. Hush, here he is!"
The door opened cautiously and there entered a man about thirty years
of age, of medium height and slightly, even delicately, built. That he
was a Frenchman was apparent even at a glance. The dark closely
cropped hair, worn in the so-called pompadour or military style, the
pale, saturnine features, the manner and general bearing all loudly
proclaimed his Gallic nationality. His smooth shaven face showed a
firm mouth with bloodless lips so thin as to be hardly perceptible.
His eyes, when they could be seen at all, were greenish in color, and
small and restless as those of a ferret. He advanced into the room
with the obsequious deferential manner which in all well-trained
servants becomes second nature, moving across the thickly carpeted
floor with the rapidity and noiselessness of a snake.
"Where have you been, Francois?" demanded Kenneth sharply.
The valet stopped short, as if struck by a blow, but he did not stand
still. His nervous thin hands and lean body were in constant motion,
although he did not stir from the one spot. In every involuntary
movement and gesture there was something that suggested the feline.
When spoken to or given an order he replied respectfully and obeyed
with alacrity, but when addressed he listened always with eyes averted.
This had always exasperated Helen. She could not recall him ever
looking her straight in the face. For that reason alone, if, for no
other, she disliked and distrusted him, thinking not unnaturally that a
man, who is afraid to let his eyes meet another's, must be plotting in
his mind some treachery which he fears his direct gaze may betray. His
furtive glances went quickly from master to mistress. Something in
their attitude, the suddenness with which they interrupted their
conversation told him that they had been talking about him.
"Did you hear me?" demanded Kenneth again. "Where have you been? You
knew there was this packing to be done."
The man's eyes flashed resentfully, but he replied civilly:
"Oui, monsieur, but monsieur forgets. Monsieur told me I must go to ze
tailor."
Kenneth's frown disappeared. Yes, it was true. He had sent him to the
tailor. Quick to make amends for an injustice, he said more amiably:
"That's right. I had forgotten. What did they say?"
"Ze suits will be delivered in half hour."
"Very well. When they come, you will know which trunk to put them in."
"Oui, monsieur."
"And then, when my trunks are ready you had better hustle with your own
packing. There's no time to be lost. The steamer sails at 11 o'clock
to-morrow morning."
"Oui, monsieur."
Quietly, stealthily, the valet retraced his cat-like steps and opening
the door retired as noiselessly as he had come.
CHAPTER III
When the valet had disappeared, Kenneth turned to his wife with a
chuckle.
"Who was right? You made me scold him for nothing."
Helen shook her head.
"I detest the man. There is something crawly and repulsive about him.
I can read evil in his face. Don't trust him, Kenneth. Remember, if
anything goes wrong, don't blame me. I warned you. My instinct seldom
fails."
Her husband laughed and, advancing, put his arm tenderly around his
wife.
"I guess I'm able to take care of myself, dear. Don't let's discuss
Francois any longer. Tell me about yourself. How are you going to
amuse yourself while I'm away?"
Her head drooped on his breast and once more her eyes filled with
tears. With affected carelessness which cost her a great effort, she
replied:
"Oh, the time won't hang so heavy on my hands. It never does when one
has resources within oneself. I'll read and ride and sew. I suppose
I'll have plenty to do."
"Mr. Parker said he would drop in and look after you."
"Yes--tell him to come and see me very often. He's rather tiresome
with his prosy talk, but he's a dear old soul."
With a mischievous twinkle in his eye her husband went on:
"It's not unlikely that Keralio will call, also."
"I hope not," she said quickly. "I'll soon show him he's not wanted."
Kenneth laughed. It amused him to see how set she was against the
Italian. He did not know the man any too well. He had met him in a
business way and the fellow had been of service, but he had not the
slightest idea of making a friend of him. He rather suspected he was
an adventurer although, a stranger in New York, no one knew anything
against him. Protestingly he said:
"It's hardly fair to attack a man because he admires you."
"He shows his admiration in a most offensive way. If you could see the
way he looks at me sometimes you'd be the first to resent it."
Kenneth laughed.
"Oh, you mustn't mind that. It's a way all foreigners have. They ogle
women more from force of habit than any desire to effect a conquest.
Besides, you won't be alone."
"No, I shall have Ray. She is excellent company--far jollier than
I----"
Kenneth protested.
"No, she isn't by a long shot. Ray is all right as sisters-in-law go,
but I'd never change you for her. I'm d----d if I would!"
Quickly Helen put her white hand over his mouth. With mock severity
she exclaimed:
"Kenneth! How can you be so profane? I hate to hear such language
from you. Ray is the sweetest thing on earth. It's a shame she never
got married. Oh, don't be uneasy on that score. We'll have a good
time. We'll go to the theater. We'll have teas and little dinner
parties. I'll invite some interesting men to meet her. I'd love to
see her married to some nice man. There's Mr. Steell, for instance.
He's rich, young, has a brilliant future----"
Kenneth made a grimace. Quickly he retorted:
"It's you he admires, not Ray. He will accept your invitation--less
with the idea of letting Ray hook him in the matrimonial net, than for
the opportunity it affords for a renewed flirtation with you. Oh,