Once more the Traynor residence was filled with the sounds of mirth and revelry.
From cellar to attic the old mansion was ablaze with light. The large dining-room, decorated with flowers and plants, wore a festive air, and the long table in the center literally groaned under its burden of fine linen, crystal, and silver.
The dinner, now drawing to a close, had been a huge success in every way, and, with the serving of thedemi-tasse, the guests sat back in their chairs, feeling that sense of gluttony satisfied which only a perfect dinner can impart. The rarest wines, the richest foods—Helen had spared no expense to make the affair worthy the occasion.
As Mr. Parker sat back and with deliberation lit the big black Corona, which his host had given him, he felt as much at ease as can a man who has dined well and knows that his affairs are prospering beyond all expectations, and, as his eyes half closed, he listened dreamily while his host, for the hundredth time, told yarns of the diamond fields, he silently congratulated himself on his astuteness in having employed so successful a messenger. He had not yet had an opportunity to ask any questions about the diamonds. He had his own reasons for not wanting those present to learn too much of his plans. There would be plenty of time when he could get the vice-president alone. So he just sat back and puffed his cigar, while around him went on the hum of conversation, punctuated here and there with bursts of laughter.
Considering his short stay at the diamond mines it was astonishing how well stocked their host was with stories. To hear him talk one might have thought he had been a miner all his life. Stimulated by copious draughts of champagne, which he contrived to make flow like water, he was highly interesting, and his listeners, greatly interested, hung on to every word.
"It must be a terrible life!" said Steell, as he lit another cigar.
The host emptied his glass and again refilled it before he answered:
"It's a life of a dog—not of a human being. The toil is incessant, the profit doubtful. You starve to death: good food is unprocurable save at prohibitive prices. One sleeps practically in the open, save for such rude shelter as each man can make for himself. The flies are a pest and constant source of danger. The water is abominable."
"You like champagne better, eh?" laughed Ray.
The gambler had already drunk more than was good for him, and, raising his glass in a mock toast, began to hum the first lines of a familiar camp ditty:
La femme qui sait me plaireC'est la petite veuve Clicquot."
"Is there much stealing of diamonds by the miners?" demanded Mr. Parker.
Handsome nodded.
"Lots of it. They have to watch 'em all the time. They resort to all kinds of tricks to conceal stones they find. They used to swallow them, but when they were forced to take powerful emetics and other drugs, they soon got tired of that game. They also try to smuggle them across the border line. One detective, who had been for months on the trail of a well-to-do smuggler, was badly stung. The man invited him to go shooting, and kindly furnished guns and cartridges. The unsuspecting policeman carried the cartridges across the border, never dreaming that each one was filled with diamonds."
Ray clapped her hands.
"Oh, what a clever idea!"
The host nodded approvingly.
"That's what I thought. Any man as smart as that deserved to get away with it."
Mr. Parker protested.
"Rogues are always smart!" he exclaimed.
"Until they're caught," laughed Dick Reynolds. "Then they don't think they're so smart."
Mr. Steell nodded approval.
"I know something about that," said the lawyer. "A crook is never really clever. He always leaves some loophole which leads to detection. He thinks he is secure, that his disguise is impenetrable, but there is always someone watching him, closely observing his every move. And, the first thing he knows, he has walked into a trap, the handcuffs are snapped, and the electric chair looms grimly before him——"
Crash!
All looked up to the end of the table, where their host had broken a glass. In the act of raising the champagne to his lips the glass had slipped and broken into a thousand pieces. Helen, frightened, started from her seat.
"Are you hurt, dear?" she asked. "There is blood on your hand."
"No—no, it's nothing. I cut myself with a bit of glass. It's nothing."
Ray was eager for more anecdotes.
"Do tell us more, Kenneth," she exclaimed, interrupting her chat with her left-hand neighbor.
"Give him a breathing spell," laughed Dick. "We've kept him at it ever since the dinner began."
Handsome, his face pale, his hand trembling, filled another glass with the foaming golden wine, and drained it at a draught. What the lawyer just said had been somewhat of a shock. Was there more meaning in it than appeared in the chance words? He eyed Steell narrowly, when he was not looking, but the lawyer's face was inscrutable. Again he filled his glass and again emptied it.
That her husband had been drinking heavily all evening had not escaped Helen's attention, and it worried her. Nudging her sister she whispered:
"Ken's drinking more than is good for him. He never used to drink like that."
At that moment, the host looked up and caught Helen's eye. Raising his glass he offered a toast:
"Here's to the prettiest, the sweetest, the most desirable little woman in the world! Gentlemen and ladies—my wife!"
They all drank except Helen who, confused and annoyed, tried to turn it off with a laugh.
Noticing her embarrassment, Ray made a signal to Mr. Steell and they both rose from the table. Helen and Dick quickly followed their example and the hostess led the way into the drawing-room, leaving Handsome and Mr. Parker alone to their cigars.
The president of the Americo-African Mining Company was not sorry of the opportunity which this tête-à-tête afforded for a quiet business talk.
"By the way, old man," he began, "we haven't had a chance to talk business yet. You've got the diamonds, of course."
His host was silent. Mr. Parker thought he had not heard. A little louder he repeated:
"You've got the diamonds?"
Still no answer. The president began to get uneasy. Could anything be wrong or was his friend drunk? He had noticed that he had been drinking heavily—something he had never known Kenneth Traynor do. With some impatience he said sharply: "What's the matter, Kenneth? Wake up, old man. I asked you a question. Can't you answer?"
Handsome brought his fist down on the table with a bang that made the glasses dance.
"D—— it!" he exclaimed angrily. "Can't a man be left alone in his own house for a few minutes without bothering him with business?"
This outburst was so utterly unexpected that Mr. Parker, taken entirely by surprise, fell back in his chair and stared at his host in amazement. Never before had he known his old friend and partner to act in this strange way. Could anything be amiss? Now he came to think of it, he had noticed a great change in his associate directly he saw him. He had seemed to lack his customary cordiality and frankness. He appeared moody and morose, as if he had on his mind some weighty responsibility he was unwilling to share. Evidently there was nothing to be gained by displaying impatience, so, in more conciliatory tones, he asked:
"That's all right, my boy. If you don't care to talk shop to-night, we won't. I didn't want to hurry you. I was curious, that's all. I have scarcely been able to curb my impatience. You understand what it means to us. Why, the very announcement that we have the diamonds safe here in New York, will be enough to send the company's stock up twenty points." Lowering his voice and bending over he added confidentially: "I don't mind telling you that I've been buying for my own account all the cheap stock I could put my hands on. As to the stockholders, they're simply wild with impatience to see the big stones. But we won't talk any more about it to-night. We'll wait till to-morrow."
Handsome, his face almost livid, leaned over the table. Hoarsely, he replied:
"It's no use waiting till to-morrow. All that's to be told can be told now. I haven't got the diamonds!"
For a moment Mr. Parker did not realize what the other man was saying. Thinking he had not heard right he asked:
"What did you say?"
"I have not got the diamonds!"
The president started from his seat. His face pale as death, his hand shaking as stricken with palsy, he almost shouted:
"You have not got the diamonds! Then where in God's name are they?"
"At the bottom of the ocean!"
The senior partner dropped back in his chair, white as death. Then this was the outcome of all his hopes, all his planning. Faintly he gasped:
"Why didn't you tell me so before?"
"I had no opportunity. I didn't want to cable such news. It might have caused a slump in the shares. I could not let you know before. This is the first time I've seen you alone."
The president said no more. The lines about his mouth tightened and the expression of his face underwent a change. He uttered not a word, but just sat there, his eyes fixed steadily on his companion, who continued to fill his glass with champagne. Cornelius Winthrop Parker was not a man to be easily deceived. He had too much experience of the world for that. All his life he had been reading men and what he heard now in the tone of his host's voice convinced him that he was lying. That, in itself, was sufficient of a shock. To find Kenneth Traynor—the soul of integrity and honor—deliberately betraying a trust of such importance hurt him almost as much as the loss of the gems. That they had gone down with theAbyssiniahe did not for a moment believe. It was more likely that they had been sold—possibly to make good Wall Street losses. Talk of big stock deals in which Traynor had been mixed up had reached his ear before today, and more recently this gossip had become more insistent. Kenneth was interested, said rumor, in pool operations involving millions. The recent sudden slump had found him unprepared. Ruin threatened him and to save himself he had succumbed to temptation. This, at least, was the theory which the President's alert brain rapidly evolved as he sat watching the man in front of him. Perhaps all was not yet lost. If the stones had not yet been disposed of, an effort might still be made to recover them and at the same time save Traynor and his young wife from the disgrace that such a grave scandal would entail. The first thing necessary was to keep cool, show no concern and disarm suspicion by pretending to accept the loss as irreparable. Then, at the first opportunity, he would take Wilbur Steell into his confidence. That wide awake lawyer would know exactly how to handle the case. Dick Reynolds would have an opportunity to show his talent as a detective. Breaking the long silence he said calmly:
"Of course, I understand your silence. I think you acted wisely. We had better keep the loss to ourselves as long as we can. No one can attach any blame to you. It is a terrible loss, but we must face it like men."
The gambler looked up quickly, and eyed his guest narrowly. Seeing nothing on the latter's face to arouse his suspicions, he grew more cheerful. Less sullen and defiant, he extended his hand.
"Thanks, old man!" he exclaimed heartily. "I expected no less from you. I can't tell you how badly I feel about the loss. No doubt my manner has seemed strange since my return. I have been irritable with everybody—even my dear wife has noticed it. It was only because I did not know how to make a clear breast of it. Since you take it so sensibly, I'll cheer up. I declare I feel like a new man already."
Mr. Parker lit another cigar. Calmly, he said:
"That's right, Kenneth my boy. Keep a stiff upper lip. All's for the best. We'll have better luck next time."
As he spoke, Wilbur Steell passed on his way to join the ladies in the drawing-room. The president called out to him:
"Hello, Steell. What are you so busy about? Entertaining the women, eh? Always thought you were a lady killer. Suppose you come and smoke a cigar with me and let our friend here go and have a chat with his wife. You've no right to monopolize the fair sex in that fashion, even if you are a trust lawyer. Anyhow, I want to talk to you—just a little matter of business—that's all!"
Steell laughed, and, dropping into a chair, took the cigar which Mr. Parker held out. Turning to his host, and clapping him genially on the back the president exclaimed:
"Go and talk to your wife, old man. You've left her alone long enough."
"All right—I will," replied the gambler, not sorry of any excuse to get away.
Mr. Parker waited till he was out of hearing, then, leaning quickly over to his companion, he exclaimed in a tense whisper:
"Steell, I need your help."
The lawyer looked at him in surprise. Removing his cigar from his mouth he said:
"My help? By all means. What can I do for you?"
Mr. Parker gave a quick glance behind him to see if they were observed, and then he said:
"My God, Steell, something terrible has happened! At any cost, we mustn't let the wife know——"
The lawyer stared at his companion in amazement.
"What is it, for Heaven's sake?" he demanded, looking anxiously at hisvis-à-vis.
"The diamonds are lost!" replied Parker hoarsely.
"The diamonds lost!"
"Yes—lost—he has returned without them. They went down in theAbyssinia. At least, that's what he says——"
The lawyer started.
"You think——"
"I think nothing," replied the president cautiously. "I want to know. That's why I want you to help me—to find out—you understand?"
The lawyer nodded:
"Some detective work, eh?"
"Precisely. The stones may have gone down to the bottom of the ocean, or they may not. For all we know the ship may have been set on fire purposely, in order to create such a panic——"
The lawyer protested.
"Surely you don't think Kenneth——"
The president shook his head.
"I accuse nobody. I want to find out."
He was silent for a moment, and then after a pause he went on:
"I suppose you've heard, as well as everybody else, how Traynor has been plunging in Wall Street recently."
The lawyer nodded. Hesitatingly he replied:
"Yes—I have. Unfortunately, the reports are true. Investigations I have conducted privately on my own account have convinced me that Kenneth has been a big plunger for some time. But as far as I know, he has operated only within his means. I have often remonstrated with him about the folly of it, but he enjoys the excitement of the speculation game, and as long as he kept within bounds and gambled with his own money I didn't see that anyone had any right to interfere."
"Ah, just so—as long as he operated with his own means and with his own money. But suppose the market suddenly goes against such a man, and he is face to face with a tremendous loss, possibly ruin, what does such a man do nine times out of ten?"
"Blow his brains out."
"Yes—sometimes that, but often he succumbs to temptation, and takes what isn't his——"
"Then you think that Kenneth——"
"I think nothing. I want to know. He has come back from Africa a changed man. He is surly, morose, secretive. That man has something on his conscience. We must find out what it is. It is up to you to ferret it out. Set your detectives to work. The company will spend the last cent in its treasury to find those stones. You must trail his associates, find out where he goes. The diamonds are probably right here in New York. Who first took Kenneth to Wall Street?"
"Signor Keralio——"
"Ah—always that fellow! Who is he?"
"An adventurer of the worst type. I have had him shadowed by one of my men. He has a police record as a dangerous criminal of international reputation."
"And Kenneth's valet—that fellow François."
"He was formerly in Keralio's employ."
The President rose. Extending his hand to the lawyer, he said:
"That's enough. I don't think the trail will be hard to pick up. Spare no expense. Good night!"
The last guest had gone. One by one the lights in the Traynor residence were extinguished. The servants, tired after an exciting and strenuous day, had gone to their quarters.
In the hall downstairs, the grandfather's clock rang out its musical chimes and then, in ponderous tones, slowly struck the twelve hours of midnight.
The master of the house was sitting at the desk in the library, looking over some papers. From time to time he glanced significantly, first at the clock and then at the corner where Helen and Ray were chatting over the events of the day. At last the young girl took the hint. Jumping up, she exclaimed good naturedly:
"How selfish I am to be sitting gossiping here when poor Kenneth is so tired. Go to bed, both of you. I'm so sleepy myself I can hardly keep awake. Good night!"
"Good night, dear!" said Helen, rising and kissing her.
"Good night, Ken! Pleasant dreams," cried the young girl as she left the room.
"Good night!" he responded hoarsely.
The sound of her footsteps died away in the distance and Helen and the gambler sat there in silence. He watched her furtively, trying to guess the trend of her thoughts, his eyes bloodshot with wine, feasting on every line of her girlish figure.
Never had she looked more beautiful, more desirable, than this evening. Herdécolletégown revealed a white, plump neck, her lips were red and tempting, her large dark eyes fairly sparkled from excitement. It was a vision to distract a saint and Handsome was no saint. It was indeed only with the greatest difficulty that he curbed his impatience to carry off the prize that lay within his grasp.
"Are you tired," he said at last. "Do you want to go to bed?"
"Not very," she answered. "I'm too excited to sleep. Hasn't it been an exciting day?"
He made no reply, pretending to be occupied at the desk, and she relapsed into a dream silence, glad of a few quiet, peaceful moments to be alone with her thoughts. How good it was to have him home again! Now she could be at peace once more and enjoy life as she used to. She could go to the opera, to the theater. The days would not be so monotonous. She wondered why she was still unable to shake off the feeling of anxiety and apprehension which had haunted her ever since he went away. With a devoted husband safe at her side, what reason had she for feeling depressed? Yet, for some reason she was unable to explain, she was not able even now to throw off her melancholy and presentiment of danger.
There recurred to her mind what Signor Keralio had said, his veiled, ambiguous words of warning. Could it be true, was it possible that her husband had deceived her all these years and unsuspected by her, had led a double life of deceit and disloyalty? Certainly there was much that needed explanation. The loss of the diamonds did not directly concern her, although she felt that, too, was part of the mystery. But his strange aloofness of manner, his inexplicable loss of memory and nervousness, the frenzied outburst when she had mentioned Keralio's name that afternoon, the sudden craving for drink—was not all this to some extent, corroboration of what the fencing master has told her? She thought she would question him, speak to him openly, frankly, as a loyal wife should the man she loves, and give him an opportunity to explain. Now was as good a time as ever. Looking up she said abruptly:
"Signor Keralio was here while you were away. I started telling you this afternoon, but you got so excited——"
Making a deprecatory gesture with his hand he said indifferently:
"That's all right. I was tired and nervous. I'm quieter now. What did Keralio have to say?"
"Nothing worth listening to. He never says anything but impertinences."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"You mustn't take him too seriously."
Hotly she retorted:
"He takes himself too seriously. If he only knew how repellent he is to a decent woman he would cease to annoy me."
He laughed.
"Oh, Keralio's not a bad sort—when you get to know him. Those foreigners think nothing of making love to a woman——"
"I don't want to know him," she retorted with spirit, "and what's more, I don't want him coming here. One evening he was so insulting that I had to show him the door. He had the impudence to come again. So I had my servant put him out. You won't invite him here again, will you?"
He was silent, while she sat watching him, amazed that he did not at once fiercely resent the insult done her in his absence. After a pause, he said awkwardly:
"I don't invite him. Keralio's the kind of a chap who invites himself."
"But can't you put him out?" she demanded with growing irritation.
"No—I can't," he answered doggedly.
"Why?" she demanded firmly.
"I can't—that's all!"
She looked at him wonderingly, and the color came and went in her face and neck. There was a note almost of contempt in her voice as she demanded:
"What is the hold this creature has on you? Is it something you are ashamed of?"
The blood surged to his face and the veins stood out on his temples like whipcord. Another instant and it had receded, leaving him ghastly pale.
"We have business interests in common, that's all," he said hastily and apologetically. "He has been very useful to me. I don't like him any more than you do, but in business one can't criticize too closely the manners or morals of one's associates."
"No, but a man can prevent his associates from annoying his wife."
He made no answer, but toyed nervously with a paper cutter. Determined to get at the truth, she went on:
"What business interests can you have together? Is it legitimate business or merely stock gambling?"
"What do you mean?"
Rising from the divan, she went toward him. Earnestly, she said:
"Kenneth, I've wanted to speak to you about this matter for a long time. During your absence I've heard rumors. Things have been insinuated. A hint has been dropped here, gossip has been overheard there—all to the effect that you are heavily involved in Wall Street. Is it true?"
For a moment he was silent, at a loss what to answer. He could not imagine the reason for the questioning or where it might lead him, but instinct warned him that it was dangerous ground and that caution was necessary. Why hadn't François told him of his brother's Wall Street operations? It would never do to show himself entirely ignorant of them. If such rumors existed, there was probably some basis of them. No doubt his brother had played the market and kept from his wife the extent of his losses.
"Is it true?" she repeated.
He shrugged his shoulders. Nonchalantly, he replied:
"Never believe all you hear!"
Her face lit up with pleasure.
"Really?" she exclaimed. "It isn't true?"
"Not a word of it. I have money invested in stocks and bonds, but anyone who accuses me of wild cat speculation is guilty of telling what I would very politely call a d——d lie!"
Reassured more by his ease and carelessness of manner than by his actual words of denial, the young wife gave an exclamation of delight.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "You've no idea how relieved I feel. It was worrying me terribly to feel that you might be in difficulties and had not thought enough of me to take me into your confidence." Looking at him appealingly she added:
"You will always confide in me, won't you Ken?"
"Sure I will, sweetheart——"
Trembling with the ardor he was trying to control he seized hold of her hand and drew her on to his knee. She offered no resistance, but passively sat there, clasped against his broad shoulder, her face radiant with happiness at the load which his words had taken off her mind.
Putting his arm round her waist, he leaned forward as if to kiss her, but drawing quickly back she said:
"There's still something else I must ask you before my happiness is quite complete."
"What's that?" he demanded, impatient at these continual interruptions to his amorous advances.
Turning she looked steadily into his face, as if trying to read the truth or falsity of his answer. She could not see his eyes, veiled as they were by the glasses, but that sensitive mouth she knew so well, that determined chin, that high forehead crowned by the bushy brown hair with its solitary white lock—all these were as dear to her as they had always been. To think that he might have fondled some other woman as he was now fondling her was intolerable agony.
"Kenneth," she said slowly and impressively, "are you sure that there is no part of your life that you have kept hidden from me?"
He started and for a moment changed color. What did she mean? Was it possible that she suspected the substitution, or was she alluding to some past history of his brother's life, of which he knew nothing? Evasively, he answered:
"Why all these question, sweetheart, the first day I come home. Is this the kind of welcome you promised me, the one I had a right to expect. I am very tired. Let us go to bed."
His arm still around her, he again drew her to him and, stooping, tried to reach her mouth with his own. But again she resisted, her mind too disturbed by jealousy to be in a mood to respond to his wooing. Gently she said:
"I know you are tired, Ken. I am tired, too,—tired of all these rumors and slanderous insinuations. I have been made unhappy by hearing this gossip. It is my right to tell you what I have heard and ask for a straightforward, loyal explanation. I know you are true to me. I have never doubted it for an instant. I only want a word from you to forget what I've heard and dismiss the matter from my mind forever."
He looked at her, an amused kind of expression playing about the corners of his mouth. It was only with an effort that he controlled the muscles of his face. What a comedy, he thought to himself! Here was this sweet little woman breaking her heart over something which, as far as he knew, didn't exist. But he must continue to play his part, no matter at what cost. Evidently, she had heard something for which there might be some basis of truth. She might even have proofs of his brother's infidelity, and ready to produce them. Too sweeping a denial might still further complicate matters, arouse suspicion, and end in exposure. Cautiously, he replied:
"You know all there is in my life, sweetheart. I never conceal anything from you."
Looking searchingly at him, she demanded:
"Never?"
"Never."
"Has there been another woman in your life, Kenneth, since you married me?"
"No, sweetheart—never. If anyone told you that or even insinuated it, he was a scoundrel. It's a damned lie! You are and always will be the only one——"
Her head fell back on his shoulder.
"Then I am completely happy!" she murmured.
His arms folded about her and she felt his warm breath on her cheek. But this time she did not resist. It felt good to be sheltered there in those strong arms against the attacks and calumnies of the world.
"It is late," he murmured.
Suddenly, he threw her head back and bending down till his mouth reached hers he kissed her full on the lips. She did not resist, but just abandoned herself, responding only feebly to the fierce passion that made him tremble like a leaf. His face flushed, his hands shaking, he murmured:
"It is very late. Are you not tired?"
"No dear—I'm not tired. There's no hurry. We needn't get up early to-morrow. It's so beautiful here—sitting together like this—so happy in each other's company."
"But I am tired," he said, trying to control his emotion.
It was almost more than he could endure, yet still he mastered himself, and resisted the temptation that arose violently within him to take her by force, if needs be, and carry her into the inner room, as the wild beast, tiring of playing with its victim, suddenly ends the game by seizing its hapless prey and drags it away to its lair. Was he not the master? Why should he allow her childish prattle to stand in the way of his desires. For years, Handsome had not known female society save that of those wretched outcasts who infest the mining camps. He had caroused with them and quarreled with them. He had even loved one of them—after the rough and ready fashion of theveldt. She was a Spaniard, a tall handsome woman, with large black eyes and the temper of a fury. She had killed her husband in a drunken brawl, and on leaving prison had gone to South Africa. She met the gambler one night in a gambling house, and, without as much as asking for an introduction, she went up to him and, in a characteristic Spanish style, gave him a hearty kiss on both cheeks. It was her way of notifying her female associates that, henceforth, the big miner was her man. Handsome accepted the challenge, and for a couple of years they lived as happily together as can two adventurers who are in constant hot water with the police. One day, in a fit of drunken jealousy, she struck him. Furious with rage, he seized her by the neck. He did not mean to harm her; it was his giant strength that was to blame. Anyhow her neck was broken and the coroner called it an accident. For a week or so, Handsome was really sorry. She was the only woman he had ever cared for. She at least was a woman.
But this slip of a girl, with her childish prattle and aristocratic airs, was quite different. Accustomed to the rougher ways of the camp, her fine manners and refined graces at first had rather intimidated him. He did not feel at home with her. He felt awkward and ill at ease. Yet, for all that, she was a woman, too—a woman of his own race, desirable, tempting. When François had first suggested that he impersonate his brother and enjoy his fortune, he had said nothing about his brother's wife. Perhaps he reserved her for his master, Keralio. At the thought, a pang of jealousy went through him. If Keralio, why not he? Evidently Keralio had been stalking the game, for she complained of his conduct and had dismissed him from the house. Yet, in what position was he to frustrate Keralio in any of his schemes? He had him in his power; he was completely at his mercy. He allowed him to masquerade in New York as the millionaire, but he was the real master of the Traynor home. Even now, François might be spying on their actions, eager to report to the arch conspirator. Rising from the chair, he lifted her to her feet.
"Come, darling—it is late——"
He led her slowly, almost imperceptibly, in the direction of the inner room. A feeling of languor came over her, and she allowed him to lead her, abandoning herself to his ardent, feverish embrace, responding every now and then to the hot kisses he rained on her mouth and neck. Through her thin dress he could feel her soft form pressing against him. From her neck arose a delicious aroma, a kind of feminine incense that still further aroused and lashed his desire.
"I adore you—I adore you!" he murmured, as he kissed her again. Slowly he led her past the bookcase and marble Venus to the open door of her pink and white boudoir.
"I adore you--I adore you" he murmured, as he kissed her again."I adore you—I adore you" he murmured,as he kissed her again.
"I adore you--I adore you" he murmured, as he kissed her again."I adore you—I adore you" he murmured,as he kissed her again.
She looked up at him in surprise.
"How you love me!" she murmured. "You never used to care for me like this."
Her head on his shoulder, her eyes half closed, she was conscious only of the presence of the man she loved better than anyone in the world.
Yet even now, in the hour of her supreme content and felicity, when all her tormenting anxieties and doubts had been dissipated by his frank words of denial, there was still something that worried her. He was changed somehow, even in his love making. It was delicious to be loved passionately, fiercely, like this—to be carried off by force, as it were, by your own husband. But she did not understand how a man could change so much in a few weeks. Kenneth had always loved her deeply, but never had she known him display such ardor as this. She had heard that men change, particularly after long absences from home. Some, she had heard, became colder; others were more demonstrative. Of the two, she thought the latter preferable. If there was such love in the world, why should it not be shown her. Her own temperament was cold, but no woman could but feel flattered that she possessed the power to arouse men to such passion.
At last they had reached the threshold of the boudoir. What to him was an earthly paradise, was almost attained. In a state of blissful helplessness, intoxicated by a delicious sensation of being completely dominated by a will stronger than her own, she permitted him to take her where he wished. Her eyes closed, her head on his shoulder, she submitted willingly to his fervent kisses. Another moment and he had closed the door behind them, when, suddenly, a commotion on the landing outside the library aroused both with a start. There was the sound of voices and people running up the stairs.
"What's that?" exclaimed Helen startled.
Irritated at this unlooked for interruption, the gambler went quickly toward the landing to investigate. François met him at the library door. In his hand he held an envelope. Holding it out, he said:
"A telegram for Madame!"
"A telegram!" cried Helen, rushing forward. "Good God, I hope Dorothy is not——"
She tore it open, while Handsome stood by in silence. On the valet's face there was a triumphant expression, the gratified smile of one rogue who enjoys the discomfiture of another.
Helen suddenly gave a cry.
"It's as I thought!" she exclaimed. "Dorothy is worse. The doctor thinks it is scarlet fever. I must go to her at once."
"Go where?" demanded Handsome in consternation.
"To Philadelphia."
"To Philadelphia to-night?" he cried in dismay.
"Yes—to-night," she said firmly.
He protested vigorously.
"Nonsense—you can't go to-night. It will do no good. Wait till the morning. There are no trains."
Quickly, the valet drew from his pocket a time-table. With a side glance at his master, he said:
"There is a train at 1.15. If Madame is quick, she will make it. The car is already waiting downstairs."
Helen seized her fur coat, which the obliging valet had also brought up from the hall.
"Yes—yes. Throw a few things in my bag. You needn't come, Ken. I'll telephone you directly I get to Philadelphia. Good-bye!"
The next instant she was gone and the gambler, with a muttered curse, went to the sideboard and poured out a glass of whiskey, with which to drown his disappointment.
For a person so fastidious and particular, so fond of the luxurious and the elegant, Signor Keralio had certainly selected a queer neighborhood for his abode. Miles distant from the fashionable centers, far away up in the Bronx, he occupied the entire top floor of a dingy, broken down tenement. There were no other people in the house, it being in such bad repair that no one cared to live in it, and as Keralio paid as much as all the previous tenants combined and made no requests for improvements, the landlord was only too glad to leave him undisturbed. It was situated at the extreme end of a blind alley and, there being no egress from the street save at one end, there was consequently little or no traffic and, for the great part of the day and night, the silence was as deep and unbroken as in the open country.
With his neighbors Signor Keralio was distantly polite, but never intimate. The district was a poor one, being settled mostly by Italian laborers who rose and went to bed with the sun and toiled too long and too hard each day to bother their heads as to why such a fine gentleman as the Signor appeared to be, should live in such squalid quarters. No one had ever been admitted to his flat. If the baker called, he left the bread on the mat; if a chance peddler or book agent happened to wander in, he had to talk through closed doors. The Signor was always busy and could not be disturbed. The lights often burned all night long, and sometimes people drove up in a taxi and went away again. For a while the corner gossips speculated idly as to who he might be, but gradually they lost all interest. When he purchased trifles at the corner grocery he gave out casually that he was a newspaper man and had to work all night, and the fact that muffled sounds of hammering and machinery in motion had been heard at all hours, only helped to make the explanation more plausible.
To-night, Keralio was perhaps more anxious than at any time to discourage callers—especially should they happen to be inquisitive secret service agents. Another few days and he would have nothing more to fear. The presses would soon have completed their work and $500,000 worth of as fine a $10 counterfeit as ever deceived a bank teller would be ready for distribution. Half of them had already been run off and, as he held them up to the light and critically examined the silken thread that ran here and there through the specially prepared paper and noted the careful coloring, the beautifully geometrical lathe work and skilfully traced signatures, he silently congratulated himself. Here was half a million dollars' worth of splendid currency. Detection was absolutely impossible. Had not François already succeeded in passing a lot? After all had been disposed of, he could afford to take a rest. On the proceeds of this rich haul, he could live like a prince for a few years in Europe, and when that was all gone, he still had the diamonds to fall back upon. Glancing at the clock, he wondered why Handsome did not come. He was anxious to get possession of the diamonds. It was too soon to attempt doing anything with the stones now. The hue and cry would be too loud. All the diamond markets would be watched, if they were not already. He had a suspicion that Parker and Steell suspected something wrong. François had seen the President in earnest consultation with the lawyer directly after Handsome had announced the loss. He had not been able to hear what was said, but from their manner he inferred that the diamonds were the sole subject of conversation. They did not question Handsome's identity. That never entered their heads, but they doubted his story of losing the stones. They, no doubt, thought he had used the diamonds to make good Wall Street losses.
He chuckled as he thought how admirably his scheme had worked out. He had hinted at Kenneth being heavily short in this street, which at once explained a motive for Kenneth diverting the stones to his own use. Yes, he had triumphed over them all—except one. Helen Traynor, so far, had foiled him in everything, and the more she resisted and insulted him, the more determined he was to drag her at his feet. Handsome, poor devil, fondly imagined he would inherit the wife as well as the fortune. How could he guess that he, Keralio, would send a bogus telegram just in time to dash the cup from his lips.
Impatiently he strode up and down the rooms. Why was Handsome late? A frown darkened his face. He had better not trifle with him. He must obey without question or take the consequences. He was in no mood to be defied.
Suddenly, he started and listened. His alert ear had caught the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later came three deliberate knocks on the door, a signal which indicated a friendly visitor. Quickly, Keralio went forward and withdrew the bolt.
François entered, suit case in hand. Hardly before he could take breath after the long climb, Keralio exclaimed:
"Well, how are they going?"
The Frenchman grinned.
"À merveille! Like hot cakes. I've passed all of zem. Good work, is it not?"
"And the real stuff?" demanded Keralio.
"Is in here."
The valet pointed to the leather case.
Eagerly Keralio seized the portmanteau, and, opening it, emptied the contents. A perfect shower of greenbacks—genuine ones this time—fell upon the floor. With shaking hands, like a miser who trembles as he handles his hoarded gold, Keralio picked up the money by armfuls and, taking it to a table, proceeded to count it.
"Is it all here?" he demanded suspiciously.
The valet scowled.
"Do you think I'm holding any back on you?Ma foi, non!"
Keralio, still counting, fixed his assistant with steely, piercing eyes.
"No, François, I think you know me too well for that. You know I never forget a service; you also know I never forgive anyone who crosses my will."
The valet shrugged his shoulders. In an injured tone he asked:
"What's all ze talk about? I work well for you. I do your dirty work,n'est ce pas? I never complain—I am faithful. What more would you have?"
"Why should you complain? You get your share," rejoined his chief sternly.
The valet was silent and Keralio went on:
"A few days more and we'll be rid of all the new stuff. Then we'll take down the presses and carry away the parts, piece by piece. When we're ready to leave this hole, there won't be a shred of evidence left. Have you heard any news from our man in Washington? What are the secret service men doing?"
"Ze alarm is given. Zey have spotted several of ze bills. Half a dozen of ze cleverest sleuths in ze country have been put on our trail. Zey will not succeed. Ze scent is cold. We've got zem completely doped."
Keralio looked anxious.
"Is there any danger of them having shadowed you and followed you here?"
"No—mon cher, pas le mains du monde. It took me three hours to come here from ze Pennsylvania station—such a crazy in and out route I gave ze chauffeur. If they succeed in following such a labyrinth as that, they deserve to get us."
Keralio smiled and pointed to a bottle of brandy on the table. Approvingly, he said:
"Good boy! There, take a drink and a cigar——"
After the valet had refreshed himself, he again confronted his chief.
"What elseà votre service?"
Keralio pointed carelessly to a seat. In a commanding tone, he said:
"Yes—I have more work for you. Sit down. I will tell you."
The valet took a chair and waited. Keralio looked at him meditatively for a moment. Then suddenly he asked:
"When did you leave the house?"
"This afternoon at three o'clock."
"When did Mrs. Traynor return from Philadelphia?"
"Yesterday—furious at the hoax played upon her? Miss Dorothy is perfectly well——"
Keralio smiled.
"Of course. I sent that telegram."
The valet grinned. Admiringly, he exclaimed:
"You are admirable!Quel homme, mon dieu, quel homme!"
Paying no heed to the compliment, Keralio went on:
"What did Handsome say?"
"He is puzzled himself and can't understand. Everyone's up in the air. They think it is a discharged maid who did it for spite."
"The next time Mrs. Traynor receives a sudden message about her baby it will not be a hoax."
The valet looked up in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
Keralio did not answer the question immediately, but sat nervously twisting his fingers, a moody sullen look in his pale saturnine face. At last, breaking the heavy silence, he said:
"That woman insulted me. You saw it. You were there——"
The valet nodded.
"You mean she put you out—ah,oui, she has adiableof a temper when angry."
Keralio nodded.
"Yes—that I can never forgive. She shall ask my pardon on her knees. I will break her spirit, humiliate her pride. I have been taxing my brain how to do it. At last I have hit on a plan—one that cannot fail and you shall help me."
"In what ways'il vous plait?"
Bending forward, his black eyes flashing, Keralio said earnestly:
"That woman is devoted to only two beings in this world—her husband and her baby. Sooner or later, perhaps only in a few days, she will discover that Handsome is an impostor. He is such a fool that exposure is inevitable. The blow will almost kill her. Above all, it will humiliate her pride to know that unwittingly she has allowed that drunken brute, that poor counterfeit of her husband, to caress and fondle her. Next in her affections comes her baby. If any danger threatened the child, she would stop at nothing, she would make any sacrifice to ward off the danger. I propose to bring about just that situation——"
The valet half started up from his chair. Hardened and callous as he was in crime, he was hardly prepared to go to that extreme.
"Death?" he exclaimed, horror stricken, "you would kill ze child?"
"No fool—not kill the child. I'll kidnap it—that's all. We'll bring the child here and, then I'll write the mother, telling her where it is and to come to it, but warning her that if she values the child's life, she must tell no one, and must come here unaccompanied. Once she is here, I will take care of the rest. Do you understand?"
The valet breathed more freely.
"So you will that I——"
His chief nodded.
"Precisely. You'll take the flyer to Philadelphia. Say you come from the mother. They'll have no suspicion. Take the child and come here at once. Understand?"
"Oui, monsieur."
Keralio rose. In commanding tones, he said:
"Then go at once."
The valet went to get his hat. As he approached the door Keralio halted him and said:
"What's Handsome doing—keeping sober?"
"He has to, for I lock up all ze liquor. He lives like a lord, buying swell clothes, riding in ze automobile. Last night he lost at ze club $10,000 he had drew from ze bank."
Keralio gave a low whistle.
"The deuce he did! Living high, eh? Well—that's all right. Let him enjoy it. His gay life won't last long—only just as long as it suits my purpose."
"Hush! Not a word—here he is!"
From the landing outside came the sound of a heavy body lurching. Then 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 François 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 rôle 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."