The Mask

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She drew away and turned away her head, so he might not see her burning
cheeks.

He persisted.

"Will you marry me?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. Then, very simply, she
answered:

"Yes, Kenneth."

That was three years ago.

CHAPTER II

In a certain set Helen Traynor was not popular. Some people thought
her old fashioned, strait-laced, prudish. They resented her having no
taste for their frivolous, decadent amusements. They called her proud
and condescending whereas, as a matter of fact, she merely asked to be
let alone. Of course, it was only people whose opinions were worthless
that criticized her. All who were admitted to her intimacy knew that
there was no friend more loyal, no woman more womanly and charming.

In one respect she might be called old fashioned. Her views on life
had certainly little in common with those held by most present-day
women. She had no taste for bridge, she refused to adopt freak
fashions in dress, she discouraged the looseness of tone in speech and
manner so much affected by other women of her acquaintance--in a word
she was in society but not of it. Naturally, she had more
acquaintances than friends, yet she was not unpopular among her
intimates. While secretly they laughed at what they termed her
puritanical notions, they were shrewd enough to realize that they could
hardly afford to snub a woman whose husband occupied so prominent a
position in the world of affairs. Besides, was it not to their
interest to cultivate her? Who gave more delightful dinners, who could
on occasion be a more charming hostess? An accomplished musician, a
clever talker, she easily dominated in whatever salon she happened to
be, and the men were always found crowding eagerly around her.

Like most women of her temperament, sure of themselves and in whose
mind never enters even a thought of disloyalty to her marriage vows,
she made no concealment of her preference for the masculine sex. With
those men who were attracted by her unusual mentality,--she was
gracious, and affable, discussing with politicians, jurists,
financiers, economic and sociological questions with a brilliancy and
insight that fairly astonished them. With literary men and musicians,
she chatted intelligently of the latest novels and pictures and operas
with the facility and expertness of a connoisseur. Other men, drawn by
her exceptional beauty, fascinated by the spell of her soulful eyes,
her tall graceful figure, and delicate classic face, framed in Grecian
head dress, made violent love to her, their heated imaginations and
jaded senses conceiving a conquest compared with which the criminal
passion of Paolo for Francesca should pale. These would-be Lotharios
might as well have tried to set an iceberg on fire. Quietly, but
firmly and in unmistakable terms, she let them understand that they
were wasting their time and their ardor thus quenched, one by one they
dropped away and left her in peace. Only Signor Keralio had persisted.
She had snubbed him, insulted him, time after time, yet wherever she
turned she found him at her elbow. Society soon resigned itself to
considering her as one apart--a beautiful, chaste Juno whose ideals all
must respect. Indeed, the only thing with which she could be
reproached was that she was in love with her husband--the unpardonable
sin in society's eyes--but seeing who it was and despairing of ever
changing her point of view, society forgave her.

It never occurred to Helen that she was different in any way from other
women. She did not see how it was possible for a woman to be untrue to
the man whose name she bore and still retain her self-respect. The day
she ceased to love her husband she would leave him forever. To her way
of thinking, it was shocking to go on living with a man merely because
it suited one's convenience and comfort. She knew married women who
did not care for their husbands, some actually detested the men they
had married, and had always held in horror the intimate relation which
marriage sanctioned. She felt sorry for such women, but secretly she
despised them. They alone were to blame. Had they not married knowing
well that there was no real affection in their hearts for the men to
whom they gave themselves? The cynicism and effrontery of young girls
regarding marriage particularly revolted her. Eager for wealth and
social position, they offered themselves with brazen effrontery in the
matrimonial market, immodestly displaying their charms to the
lecherous, covetous eyes of blase, degenerate men. Any question of
attachment, love, affection was never for a moment considered. The
idea that a man could be even considered unless he were able to provide
a fine establishment was laughed to scorn. The girls were all men
hunters but they hunted only rich men. They called the feeling they
experienced for the man they caught in their toils "love." They meant
something quite different. To a girl of Helen's ideas, such manoeuvers
were shocking. To her the marriage tie was something sacred, a
relation not to be entered into lightly. Kenneth was rich, it was
true, but she would have loved him none the less had he been one of his
own fifteen dollar a week clerks. When they were married and the
romance was over, he stopped playing the lover to devote himself to the
more serious business of making money, but with her, time, instead of
dimming the flame, only caused it to burn the brighter. This man whom
she had married was her only thought. In him centered every interest
of her life.

A muffled outburst of profanity from Kenneth aroused her from her
reveries.

"That's always the way when one's in a hurry," he exclaimed petulantly.
"Ring for Francois. Why the devil isn't he here?"

Quickly, Helen sprang up from the trunk and touched an electric button.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked.

She approached her husband who, at the far end of the room, was red in
the face from the unusual exertion of trying to coax the buckle of a
strap into a hole obviously out of reach. He pulled and strained till
the muscles stood out on his neck and brawny arms like whipcord, and
still the obstinate buckle declined to be coerced. The more it
resisted, the more determined he was to make it obey. Go in it must,
if sheer strength would do it. The vice-president of the
Americo-African Mining Company was no weakling. A six-foot athlete and
captain of the Varsity football team in his college days, his muscles
had been toughened in a thousand lively scrimmages and in later life
plenty of golf, rowing and other out-of-door sports had kept him in
condition. When he pulled hard something had to give way. It did in
this instance. There was a tearing, rending sound and the strap broke
off short. With a gesture of despair he turned to his wife as men are
wont to do when in trouble.

"Wouldn't that jar you?" he cried, as he threw the broken strap away.
"What the deuce am I going to do now?"

"Why don't you let Francois attend to such things?" answered his wife
calmly. "He understands packing so much better than you. You're so
strong, you break everything."

She looked fondly at her husband's tall, athletic figure. He turned to
her with a smile.

"I guess you're right," he said. "But where the devil is Francois?"

"I don't know. I sent him downstairs to tell the cook to have some
nice sandwiches ready when you come home after the director's meeting
tonight, but that's an hour ago----"

His ill humor gone, Kenneth looked up and smiled at her. Putting his
arm about her, fondly he said:

"Dear little wife. You're always thinking of the comfort of others.
You're the most unselfish, the most adorable, the most----"

"Stop, Kenneth, don't be foolish or I shall believe you----"

His face red from his recent exertions, he sat down on the arm of a
chair to rest a little. Full of the coming journey, he had already
forgotten his wife's anxiety. The great business schemes he had in
mind dwarfed for the time being every other consideration. He could
think and talk of nothing but diamonds. Huge crystals, worth untold
millions as big as a fist, flashed at him from every corner of the
room. Fabulous fortunes had been made in the diamond mines of South
Africa. Why should he not be as successful as others? The romance of
the Cullinan might be repeated, even surpassed. Well he recalled how
he had been thrilled by the sensational story of the discovery of that
colossal gem, more than three times the size of the Excelsior, the
wonder of the modern world. In imagination, he saw it now. An
old-fashioned Boer farm, transformed into a modern mining camp. A
moonlight night. A man strolling idly along the rugged, desolate
veldt, chances to look down. His eye suddenly catches a gleam in the
rough face of the jagged slope. He stoops and picks up what looks like
a piece of ice. Quickly he returns to his office and hands it to his
chief. The men look at each other in silence. To all parts of the
world goes the message that a diamond has been found four times bigger
than the largest gem in the world. A stone weighing over 3,000 carats
and worth four million dollars. He could already imagine himself far
from civilization among the barren mountains of South Africa,
prospecting in wide stretches of stone and gravel, picking up the
brilliant dazzling stones by the handful.

"Have you any idea," he said, "what the mines have produced?"

She shook her head indifferently.

"No, and I don't want to know. I don't want you to go--that's all."

"Their output in the last ten years is estimated at no less than
$400,000,000. Just think of it. Four hundred millions! Well, dear, I
and a few others want some of it, and we're going to get it."

"But aren't we rich enough already?" she demanded petulantly. "Why
this fever to get richer and richer? We are happy with what we have.
Why run the risks to gain what after all will only be a surplus? We
can't possibly spend it."

Her husband's eyes flashed. The lines about his mouth tightened as he
retorted:

"One never has enough! You women don't understand. As long as you
have all the amusement you crave, all the frocks you want, all the
jewelry you covet, you think that is all there is to life."

She looked up at him reproachfully and seemed about to protest when he
added hurriedly:

"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,
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:

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