The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure
quite innocent, of course, but still a flirtation. Have I forgotten
what close friends you used to be before I appeared on the scene?"
"And carried me off, a new Lochinvar come out of the West!" she
laughed. "Oh, Kenneth, how can you be so foolish? It is absolutely
indecent of you. I like Mr. Steell, and I think he likes me, but our
friendship is purely platonic. I never give him a thought, I assure
you."
"I know you don't, but I'm not so sure about him. He's a man and men
are only human----"
"He's a gentleman," corrected Helen. "He never forgets that."
Kenneth gave a grunt of incredulity. Sulkily he said:
"All right--all right. Have a good time. Marry him to Ray. Perhaps
it's safer that way. When he's my brother-in-law, he'll stop making
sheep's eyes at my wife."
Helen laughed outright.
"You silly goose. I never suspected you of having a jealous streak in
your nature. How could I prefer anyone to my handsome Kenneth?"
As she stood before him, playfully patting his cheek, her glance
alighted on the solitary lock of gray hair in the center of his
forehead. Toying with it, she went on:
"Isn't it strange that your hair should be white just in that place. I
rather like it. It gives an added note of distinction to your face. I
wonder what caused it."
Kenneth laughed.
"That's my trade mark. If ever I'm brought home on a stretcher you'll
know me by that white lock."
Helen raised her hand in protest.
"Don't talk that way. Never jest about accidents. Sometimes they
happen."
"Well--I said nothing. I only said that if you were ever in doubt
about my identity, you would know me by my white lock."
She smiled, as she patted his cheek lovingly, and said:
"That would not be necessary, Ken dear. No matter how changed you
looked, what disguise you wore, I should still know you."
"And if it wasn't me," he laughed, "but only someone who looked like
me?"
"I could never be mistaken. The ring in the voice, the expression in
the eyes--no woman who really loves could ever be deceived."
She had drawn nearer to him, her mouth upturned and tempting, her face
with that gentle, wistful expression he was never able to resist.
Throwing his arms impulsively about her, he clasped her passionately to
his breast.
"Sweetheart," he whispered, "you don't know how dear you are to me!"
"Nor can you," she replied, as he smothered her with kisses, "ever
realize what you are to me!"
Suddenly they were interrupted by a sound at the door behind them.
Some one coughed discreetly. Quickly separating, Helen turned round.
In some confusion she exclaimed:
"Hello, Ray. I thought you were out. When did you come in?"
"I was out. I have been shopping. I met Mr. Steell in the park and we
had a lovely walk." Slyly she added: "I am afraid I returned too soon.
I see you're both busy."
"Never too busy for you, Ray," smiled Helen trying to hide her
confusion, while Kenneth grinned broadly.
The young girl laughed as she flung down on the sofa her muff and fur
neck-piece. Roguishly she said:
"Lovemaking so early in the day. Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?"
Kenneth liked to tease his sister-in-law, but the young girl was quite
his equal when it came to a battle of wits and it was not often that
she gave him the opportunity.
"What time do you do your love making?" he demanded.
Her cheeks reddened a little as she retorted:
"I'm never so foolish. I leave that to you married people. My purpose
in life is far more serious."
"Oh, come now," protested her brother-in-law, "I've noticed you and
Steell spooning often enough."
Stylishly and tastefully dressed, her face beaming with animation, her
eyes sparkling with intelligence, Kenneth's sister-in-law was a pretty,
wholesome looking girl. She had beautiful blond hair like her sister,
and fine, white teeth that told of good health and perfect digestion.
Helen's junior only by three years, she was still unmarried and for the
present at least seemed more inclined to remain single and partake of
life's pleasures than incur the risks and responsibilities of
matrimony. Not that she had been without offers. A girl as attractive
and clever could hardly have failed to please the sterner sex. All
sorts and conditions of men had prostrated themselves at her tiny,
well-shod feet, but, capricious and headstrong, she would have none of
them. She was what might be called a singular girl. She liked men,
not because of their sex, but because their point of view was
different, their grasp of things stronger than her own. One day she
must marry. She knew that. It was, she insisted laughingly, an
ignoble state of slavery, a humiliating, degrading condition of
subjection to the male which every woman must endure, necessary
perhaps, but an ordeal to be put off, something unpleasant to be
postponed as long as possible, like the taking of a dose of unsavory
physic or having a tooth pulled at the dentist's. Meantime, heart
whole and fancy free, she enjoyed life to the limit and kept her
admirers guessing.
"Oh, I saw such lovely things in the stores," exclaimed the young girl.
"I wish I had the money to buy them all."
"You will have when I get back from South Africa," he laughed.
"Don't forget," she laughed. "I'll hold you to that promise. Helen is
witness."
"I swear it!" he said with mock solemnity. "You shall have carte
blanche in any Fifth Avenue shop to the amount of--$1.75."
"Will you be ready in time?" she laughed, looking around with dismay at
the litter of open trunks.
"I won't, if you stay here chattering like a magpie."
"What time does the steamer sail?"
"Eleven o'clock," said Helen.
"We're all coming to see you off. Mr. Steell told me that he's coming,
too."
"Not exactly to see me, I'm afraid," smiled Kenneth.
"Who else?" she retorted. "If you mean me, you're mistaken. He
doesn't need to make the uncomfortable trip to Hoboken to see me."
Her brother-in-law smiled, amused at her petulance.
"My dear," he said, "you don't know what hardships a man will endure
for the girl he's sweet on." With mock seriousness he went on: "Say
sis, Helen and I have been having an argument. Who does Steell come
here for--for you or for me?"
Ray burst into merry laughter.
"How silly you are, Ken. For me, of course. At least, I flatter
myself that----" With a wink at her sister she added facetiously: "Of
course, one never knows when dealing with these handsome men. And
Helen is quite adorable. If I were a man, I should be crazy about her."
Helen held up a protesting finger.
"Don't talk like that, dear, or he'll believe you."
Kenneth laughed.
"Yes, I'm as jealous as Othello and quite as dangerous. Don't I look
it?"
As he spoke, the front door-bell rang downstairs. Ray hastily took up
her things.
"Here's company!"
"I hope not!" exclaimed Helen. "I'm in no mood to see anybody."
"I'll see them," whispered Ray, "and say you're out. It won't be the
first fib I've told."
She ran lightly out of the room and upstairs, while Helen and her
husband went on with the work of packing. They were just stooping
together over a trunk when there came a rap on the door, and Francois
appeared.
"A lady to see monsieur."
Kenneth looked puzzled.
"A lady? What lady?"
Helen laughed merrily. Triumphantly, she exclaimed:
"It's my turn now to be jealous."
"Not exactly a lady, monsieur. An elderly person."
"What's her name?"
"Mrs. Mary O'Connor."
Kenneth smiled broadly.
"Mary O'Connor, my old nurse. Well, well, show her right in." Turning
to his wife he added quickly: "Dear old soul--no doubt she's heard I'm
off to Africa and wishes to say good-bye."
An instant later an old woman bent with age and with a kindly face
framed with silvery white hair came in, hands outstretched. Without
any air of condescension on his part, Kenneth went forward to greet
her. Through all the long stretch of years, from his boy days to his
manhood he had never forgotten how kind Mary had been to him when a
child, taking the place of the mother he had lost in infancy. A
Christmas was never allowed to pass without a fat turkey for the old
nurse and many a little present of money had accompanied the bird. The
old woman's lips quivered as she said tremulously:
"It's a long way you're going, Mr. Kenneth."
"Oh, I'll soon be back, Mary," he rejoined jovially.
She shook her head.
"It's a long way and I'm getting old."
The promoter laughed boisterously. Leading her gently to a chair he
exclaimed:
"Old! Nonsense; You're just as young to me now as when I first
remember you."
The old lady smiled. Nodding her head feebly, she replied:
"When you used to play hide-and-seek with me. When I wanted to put you
to bed you were nowhere to be found."
Helen laughed while Kenneth protested:
"Oh, come now, Mary, I wasn't so bad as that."
"No. You weren't bad--just lively and natural as all healthy children.
You were always a better boy than your brother."
Helen looked up quickly.
"Your brother, Kenneth? I never heard you speak of a brother."
He looked at the old lady in amazement.
"My brother? What brother?"
The old lady smiled.
"That's so--you never knew. You were too young to remember. Yes, you
had a brother--a twin brother. People hardly knew you apart. There
was only one way in which your mother and I could tell."
"What was that?" demanded the promoter eagerly.
"He had a scar. He caught his hand in some machinery when a baby and
it left a scar in the index finger of the left hand."
Transfixed, Kenneth listened open-mouthed. At last breaking the spell,
he exclaimed:
"I never heard of him. You never spoke of him before."
"How should you remember?" went on the old woman. "It's many years
ago. Your father and mother are dead. You have no relatives living.
No one knows. But I know."
"Did he die?" asked Kenneth, deeply interested.
The old lady nodded affirmatively.
"I shall never forgive myself. It was my fault. You were playing
together in the garden. I didn't dream either of you could come to
harm. I went into the house for a moment to get something. When I
came back your brother was gone--no trace of him anywhere. We never
saw him again. Your father, heart-broken, offered a fortune for news
of him. The police hunted high and low all over the country. There
was no trace. Some gypsies had passed recently through the town. I
always suspected them. That is thirty years ago and more."
"So it's not even known if he's dead," interrupted Kenneth eagerly.
The beldame shook her head sorrowfully, as she answered sagely:
"Oh, he's dead all right. That's sure. There was money left to him by
your grandfather. For years the lawyers advertised for news of him.
But it was no good. If he'd been alive, he'd have claimed his own."
"He might still be alive, yet unaware of his identity," broke in Helen,
who was a keenly interested listener. She had been so accustomed to
regard her husband as the only son of parents, both of whom were dead,
that the mere possibility of his having a brother awakened her
curiosity.
Still under the spell of the old woman's unexpected revelation, Kenneth
had relapsed into a thoughtful silence. The surprising news had
affected him strangely. So--he had had a brother--a twin brother, and
all these years he had been in ignorance of the fact. Yet who could be
nearer or dearer than a twin brother? Together they had lain under the
same mother's heart. Together they had first seen the light and
laughed in the sun. Ah, if he had only lived to be his comrade, his
partner! With a brother at his side, to second him in his hazardous
enterprises, he felt he would indeed be invincible. He could have