The Mask

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Impatient at the other's silence Kenneth demanded somewhat sharply:

"Well--what do you say? Do you accept?"

He looked straight at his _vis-a-vis_, but Handsome avoided his direct
gaze. He was silent for another moment as if reflecting. Then,
slowly, he said:

"Yes, I accept."

CHAPTER IX

The string orchestra, adroitly concealed behind a bank of graceful
exotic plants, struck up a languorous waltz, and the couples, only too
eager to respond to the invitation, began to turn and glide over the
polished parquet floor.

Not since its master's departure for South Africa had the Traynor
residence been the scene of so much life and gayety. Every window
literally blazed with light. From the front door at the top of the
high stoop down to the edge of the street curb, stretched a canvas
awning to protect arriving guests from the inclemency of the weather.

It was a stormy night. The rain was falling in torrents, but no one
cared. Everybody was out for a good time and they knew that this was
the house to get it.

Helen's first impulse had been to postpone the affair, held really in
celebration of Ray's birthday, until Kenneth's return, but as this idea
had met with decided opposition from the younger element, she had
reluctantly given way. Besides, there was no knowing when Kenneth
would return. Nothing as yet had been heard from him excepting a brief
cablegram announcing his safe arrival at Cape Town, and it was
manifestly unfair to let her own inclinations stand in the way of the
happiness of others. So, after due reflection, she had surrendered
completely, giving Ray _carte blanche_ to make what arrangements she
chose. That young person did not stand on the order of going. She
acted at once and sent out invitations to what proved to be one of the
biggest _soirees dansantes_ of the season. Everything was done on a
most liberal scale. The house was decorated by Herly, three
picturesque fiddlers were obtained from an agency, and Mazzoni, who
provides delicacies for the "400," had charge of the catering.

Everybody who was anybody was invited, all Ray's personal friends
besides a lot of people she did not know so well. A number of Helen's
intimates were there and also some men friends of Mr. Steell and Dick
Reynolds. The girls in their light gowns looked pretty as angels. The
men were handsome, attentive and gallant. Altogether, everyone voted
it one of the most enjoyable social affairs of the year.

Ray had danced her sixth waltz and at last utterly exhausted, unable to
stand any more, she allowed Dick Reynolds to escort her to a sofa.

"Please get me an ice, will you? That's a dear boy," she gasped.

"Will I!" echoed the youth. "What wouldn't I do for you--fire and
water--that's all!"

"As bad as that?" laughed the girl panting. "Please don't be silly.
Go and get me an ice."

Obediently, he left her and forced his way through the throng to the
buffet, while Ray, left alone, started to fan herself vigorously. As
she sat there Helen passed on the arm of Mr. Parker. The President
stopped short and quizzed the young girl.

"You here?" ejaculated the old gentleman in mock amazement. "Why
aren't you dancing? This will never do."

Helen smiled.

"I expect she's tired out. This is the first time I've seen her sit
down all evening."

Ray nodded.

"You've guessed right, sis. I'm nearly dead. I sent Dick for an ice."

"Did you ever see such a crowd?" remarked the president of the A. A. M.
Company as he surveyed the throng that passed in and out of the rooms.

"Oh, Mrs. Traynor we're having such a jolly time," exclaimed a tall
graceful girl, gracefully dressed in light blue empire gown with
Grecian head dress.

"I'm so glad, dear," smiled the hostess amiably. Turning to Mr. Parker
as the girl passed on she asked: "Do you know who that is?"

He shook his head.

"She's the granddaughter of John R. Rockerford, the money king. Fancy
her saying this is jolly after the grandeur she is accustomed to!"

"No doubt she likes this better," retorted Ray. "Those very rich
people don't do things any better than we--sometimes not so well.
Their parties are too stiff and formal."

Suddenly Mr. Parker nudged his hostess.

"Here comes Mrs. Brewster-Curtis," he said in a stage whisper. "They
say her husband's worth ten millions--all made from graft."

A handsome woman, blazing with diamonds, came up. Addressing Helen,
she exclaimed gushingly:

"Oh, Mrs. Traynor, isn't this perfectly delightful? How do you do, Mr.
Parker. Do you know I haven't enjoyed myself so much this season.
What's the news from your dear husband?"

"No news as yet."

"Dear me--you poor thing! How interesting--so pretty and husband away.
What an opportunity for some of our gay Lotharios!"

"They wouldn't have much chance with Helen!" laughed Ray.

Mrs. Brewster-Curtis turned, and putting up her gold lorgnon, stared at
the unknown young woman who had been so bold to venture to express an
opinion. Ray, meantime, was wondering what detained Dick. Here she
was famishing with thirst and still no ice. Her partner had
disappeared completely.

Addressing her hostess Mrs. Brewster said languidly:

"Your niece, I believe."

"No--my sister," corrected Helen with a smile. It was a mistake often
made.

"Of course--of course, how silly of me. I might have known that. You
look enough alike."

"Do you think so?" interrupted Ray hotly. "Helen is far prettier than
I."

"You are no judge, my dear. You must let the men decide that."

"They do," said Ray, "and they all declare in favor of Helen."

"Not by the way Mr. Steell dodges [Transcriber's note: dogs?] your
footsteps." Looking up she exclaimed: "There he is now."

"Oh, Mr. Steell," cried Helen, "don't forget our next waltz."

His face all smiles, the lawyer forced his way through the press of
people.

"Have you seen Dick?" asked Ray. "I sent him to get me an ice."

Mr. Steell laughed outright.

"Oh, it was you who sent him. If I had known----"

"Why?" demanded Ray, opening wide her eyes. "Where is he? I want my
ice."

"I'll get you an ice, dear," said Helen.

"No, let me go," exclaimed Mr. Parker.

"No--no one will get the ice but myself," said Mr. Steell. "It's my
fault that the ice is not already forthcoming. It is only just that I
suffer accordingly."

Mr. Parker laughed.

"The ice episode threatens to become a diplomatic incident."

"Why--whatever is the matter?" smiled Helen.

The lawyer was so much amused that he could hardly keep his face
straight. With an effort he controlled himself, and said:

"Just now I was talking with a pretty girl and Dick suddenly forced his
way through the crowd, going in the direction of the buffet. I had no
idea on what a serious mission he was bound, of course, and so I called
him to introduce him to the pretty girl, who had with her an aunt, a
veritable witch, as hideous as a Medusa, and who, in addition, is
afflicted with a wooden leg. Dick gave the aunt only a glance. That
was enough, but he was all smiles for her pretty niece, who, I must
admit, is somewhat of a flirt. Anyhow she rolled her eyes so
eloquently at him that he forgot all about the important errand on
which he was bound. Just at that moment the musicians struck up a
_schottische_, and, on the spur of the moment, he asked the pretty girl
to dance. She declined, with an arch smile, but, pointing to the old
witch, said her aunt would be delighted. Poor Dick! There was no help
for it. The Medusa got up, seized him in her claws, and, the last
thing I saw of the poor youth, they were doing a sort of Bunny Hug, the
wooden leg of his lady partner marking time on the waxed floor."

"Please stop! If you go on--I shall expire."

Ray was nearly in convulsions of laughter in which all joined. When
Helen had somewhat regained her composure, she said:

"I think it's unkind to make fun of the poor woman. Who is she?"

"I haven't the least idea. Perhaps Dick will tell us."

At that moment the youth emerged from the throng and came towards them,
his linen mussed, his hair dishevelled. But in one hand he held grimly
a plate of ice cream. Looking shamelessly at Ray, he smiled:

"I've got it--at last."

"Where have you been all this time?" she demanded innocently.

"Oh, I've been having no end of a good time!"

Steell burst out laughing.

"Did she ask you to call, Dick?"

"If she had I'd have killed her."

"How did the artificial leg work?"

"She jammed it on my foot once. How it did hurt!"

Ray, by this time, was almost in hysterics, and Helen and the others,
catching the contagion, the whole group were soon shaken by
uncontrollable laughter.

The orchestra struck up a quadrille. A man came rushing up to Ray.

"My dance, I believe."

With a comical expression of resignation, the young girl allowed
herself to be led away, while Helen and Mrs. Brewster-Curtis took seats
to watch the figures.

"Come, Dick," said Steell in an undertone. "Let's go and smoke a
cigar."

Leading the way he went into the smoking-room, where cigars and liquors
were laid out. Turning to the youth, he inquired eagerly:

"Well--what about the Signor? What have you found out?"

Dick lit a cigarette and then calmly he said:

"Everything."

"What--to be specific."

"He's all and more than we expected."

"In other words--a crook?"

"Yes, and a dangerous one."

"What's his game?"

"Confidence man, bank robber, blackmailer."

"How did you find out?"

"Very easily. I found his record. The police haven't disturbed him
because his clever disguise has deceived them. They have not
recognized in the polished, suave Signor Keralio, the popular fencing
master, the man they have been hunting for years. His real name is
Richard Barton. His pals call him Baron Rapp. Five years ago he was
convicted of robbing a bank out West and was sent up for ten years. He
served a year in Joliet and then broke jail and he has been at liberty
ever since."

"Good!" exclaimed the lawyer, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.
"We've got him where we want him. What else?"

"He has managed to elude the police so far owing to the fact that he
has not been operating of late, but from what I've been able to ferret
out, he is preparing some big haul. Everything points that way. I
don't know what it is, but it's the biggest thing in which he has yet
been mixed up. He's affiliated with crooks who operate all over the
country. Some of his men are disguised as servants and valets in rich
houses. They spy on their masters and tell him if there is anything
worth robbing. He is the master-mind that schemes the operations that
others carry out. He tells his men what banks and homes to break into
and instructs them how to do it. He receives all the stolen property.
At this very moment his flat in the Bronx is full of stolen loot. I
also suspect him of being engaged in counterfeiting."

The lawyer was lost in admiration.

"Dick, you're a wonder!"

The young man grinned with pride.

"Well--what's it to be--shall we tip off the police?"

"Not by a long shot. We'll have the gun loaded--all ready for use. If
the Signor gets ugly we'll shoot--that's all. Not a word, do you hear.
Leave everything to me. Come, let's go back or they'll think
something's wrong."

In the ballroom, they were still dancing the quadrille, the pretty
gowns of the girls and black coats of the men making a picturesque
sight as they blended in the ever changing figures.

The gayety was at its height when the maid entered and whispered in her
ear:

"There's a gentleman downstairs."

Helen looked at the girl in surprise.

"A gentleman? What's his name?"

"I don't know, m'm. He wouldn't say."

"Very well, I'll go down."

Slipping away unobserved, Helen made her way downstairs and throwing
back the heavy tapestry portieres entered the drawing room which was
almost in complete darkness. The maid had forgotten to switch on the
electrolier and as the only light came from the distant dining-room,
the big parlor was practically all in gloom. Before her eyes had
become quite accustomed to the dark, a man advanced out of the shadow.
It was Signor Keralio.

She recognized him instantly and instinctively she shrank back,
alarmed. How had he dared come again to her house after what had
occurred? He noticed the movement and asked:

"I see that I'm unwelcome. Do I frighten you so much?"

Coldly she answered:

"You do not frighten me. You surprise me. I did not expect this
pleasure after what passed between us the last time you were here."
Making a half turn, as if about to leave the room, she added quickly:
"I have company upstairs. You must excuse me."

She walked away and had almost reached the door, when, with a quick
stride, he intercepted her.

"Please don't go. I am here in your own interest. I want to talk to
you--just a moment, about----"

She hesitated.

"About what?" she demanded haughtily.

"About your husband."

"My husband?" she echoed, turning and facing him.

"Yes--your husband. He is in danger. I want to help you and--him."

"Kenneth in danger?" she faltered. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to a chair.

"Won't you sit down. I won't keep you a moment. I will tell you
everything----"

She sat down like one in a dream. Taking a seat near her, he began in
his low, musical tones.

"Peril threatens your husband. It is known that he has gone to South
Africa to bring home diamonds of almost inestimable value. A number of
desperate men, who stop at nothing to accomplish their ends, have taken
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.

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