CHAPTER II
In a certain set Helen Traynor was not popular. Some people thoughther old fashioned, strait-laced, prudish. They resented her having notaste for their frivolous, decadent amusements. They called her proudand condescending whereas, as a matter of fact, she merely asked to belet alone. Of course, it was only people whose opinions were worthlessthat criticized her. All who were admitted to her intimacy knew thatthere was no friend more loyal, no woman more womanly and charming.
In one respect she might be called old fashioned. Her views on lifehad certainly little in common with those held by most present-daywomen. She had no taste for bridge, she refused to adopt freakfashions in dress, she discouraged the looseness of tone in speech andmanner so much affected by other women of her acquaintance--in a wordshe was in society but not of it. Naturally, she had moreacquaintances than friends, yet she was not unpopular among herintimates. While secretly they laughed at what they termed herpuritanical notions, they were shrewd enough to realize that they couldhardly afford to snub a woman whose husband occupied so prominent aposition in the world of affairs. Besides, was it not to theirinterest to cultivate her? Who gave more delightful dinners, who couldon occasion be a more charming hostess? An accomplished musician, aclever talker, she easily dominated in whatever salon she happened tobe, and the men were always found crowding eagerly around her.
Like most women of her temperament, sure of themselves and in whosemind never enters even a thought of disloyalty to her marriage vows,she made no concealment of her preference for the masculine sex. Withthose men who were attracted by her unusual mentality,--she wasgracious, and affable, discussing with politicians, jurists,financiers, economic and sociological questions with a brilliancy andinsight that fairly astonished them. With literary men and musicians,she chatted intelligently of the latest novels and pictures and operaswith the facility and expertness of a connoisseur. Other men, drawn byher exceptional beauty, fascinated by the spell of her soulful eyes,her tall graceful figure, and delicate classic face, framed in Grecianhead dress, made violent love to her, their heated imaginations andjaded senses conceiving a conquest compared with which the criminalpassion of Paolo for Francesca should pale. These would-be Lothariosmight as well have tried to set an iceberg on fire. Quietly, butfirmly and in unmistakable terms, she let them understand that theywere wasting their time and their ardor thus quenched, one by one theydropped away and left her in peace. Only Signor Keralio had persisted.She had snubbed him, insulted him, time after time, yet wherever sheturned she found him at her elbow. Society soon resigned itself toconsidering her as one apart--a beautiful, chaste Juno whose ideals allmust respect. Indeed, the only thing with which she could bereproached was that she was in love with her husband--the unpardonablesin in society's eyes--but seeing who it was and despairing of everchanging her point of view, society forgave her.
It never occurred to Helen that she was different in any way from otherwomen. She did not see how it was possible for a woman to be untrue tothe man whose name she bore and still retain her self-respect. The dayshe ceased to love her husband she would leave him forever. To her wayof thinking, it was shocking to go on living with a man merely becauseit suited one's convenience and comfort. She knew married women whodid not care for their husbands, some actually detested the men theyhad married, and had always held in horror the intimate relation whichmarriage sanctioned. She felt sorry for such women, but secretly shedespised them. They alone were to blame. Had they not married knowingwell that there was no real affection in their hearts for the men towhom they gave themselves? The cynicism and effrontery of young girlsregarding marriage particularly revolted her. Eager for wealth andsocial position, they offered themselves with brazen effrontery in thematrimonial market, immodestly displaying their charms to thelecherous, covetous eyes of blase, degenerate men. Any question ofattachment, love, affection was never for a moment considered. Theidea that a man could be even considered unless he were able to providea fine establishment was laughed to scorn. The girls were all menhunters but they hunted only rich men. They called the feeling theyexperienced for the man they caught in their toils "love." They meantsomething quite different. To a girl of Helen's ideas, such manoeuverswere shocking. To her the marriage tie was something sacred, arelation not to be entered into lightly. Kenneth was rich, it wastrue, but she would have loved him none the less had he been one of hisown fifteen dollar a week clerks. When they were married and theromance was over, he stopped playing the lover to devote himself to themore serious business of making money, but with her, time, instead ofdimming the flame, only caused it to burn the brighter. This man whomshe had married was her only thought. In him centered every interestof her life.
A muffled outburst of profanity from Kenneth aroused her from herreveries.
"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 inthe face from the unusual exertion of trying to coax the buckle of astrap into a hole obviously out of reach. He pulled and strained tillthe muscles stood out on his neck and brawny arms like whipcord, andstill the obstinate buckle declined to be coerced. The more itresisted, the more determined he was to make it obey. Go in it must,if sheer strength would do it. The vice-president of theAmerico-African Mining Company was no weakling. A six-foot athlete andcaptain of the Varsity football team in his college days, his muscleshad been toughened in a thousand lively scrimmages and in later lifeplenty of golf, rowing and other out-of-door sports had kept him incondition. When he pulled hard something had to give way. It did inthis instance. There was a tearing, rending sound and the strap brokeoff short. With a gesture of despair he turned to his wife as men arewont 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 wifecalmly. "He understands packing so much better than you. You're sostrong, you break everything."
She looked fondly at her husband's tall, athletic figure. He turned toher 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 somenice sandwiches ready when you come home after the director's meetingtonight, but that's an hour ago----"
His ill humor gone, Kenneth looked up and smiled at her. Putting hisarm 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 achair to rest a little. Full of the coming journey, he had alreadyforgotten his wife's anxiety. The great business schemes he had inmind dwarfed for the time being every other consideration. He couldthink and talk of nothing but diamonds. Huge crystals, worth untoldmillions as big as a fist, flashed at him from every corner of theroom. Fabulous fortunes had been made in the diamond mines of SouthAfrica. Why should he not be as successful as others? The romance ofthe Cullinan might be repeated, even surpassed. Well he recalled howhe had been thrilled by the sensational story of the discovery of thatcolossal gem, more than three times the size of the Excelsior, thewonder of the modern world. In imagination, he saw it now. Anold-fashioned Boer farm, transformed into a modern mining camp. Amoonlight night. A man strolling idly along the rugged, desolateveldt, chances to look down. His eye suddenly catches a gleam in therough face of the jagged slope. He stoops and picks up what looks likea piece of ice. Quickly he returns to his office and hands it to hischief. The men look at each other in silence. To all parts of theworld
goes the message that a diamond has been found four times biggerthan the largest gem in the world. A stone weighing over 3,000 caratsand worth four million dollars. He could already imagine himself farfrom civilization among the barren mountains of South Africa,prospecting in wide stretches of stone and gravel, picking up thebrilliant 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, Iand a few others want some of it, and we're going to get it."
"But aren't we rich enough already?" she demanded petulantly. "Whythis 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? Wecan't possibly spend it."
Her husband's eyes flashed. The lines about his mouth tightened as heretorted:
"One never has enough! You women don't understand. As long as youhave all the amusement you crave, all the frocks you want, all thejewelry you covet, you think that is all there is to life."
She looked up at him reproachfully and seemed about to protest when headded hurriedly:
"Oh, I don't mean you. I know you are not that kind of woman. You aremore serious, more sensible. I mean the average society woman whoseonly 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 incomeof over $100,000 a year, a splendidly appointed town house, a showplace in the country. Above all I have the most adorable wife in allthe 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. Myambition is to wield the power that only the possession of vast wealthconfers. The resources of this vast country are practically in thehands of half a dozen men. Merely by holding up a finger, these mencould, to suit their own selfish ends, start a universal panic whichmight bring about a financial cataclysm, involving the whole world indisaster. I do not say they would use this power for evil, but theyare in position to do so if it served their purpose. I want to havesuch power, only if I had it I would not use it for evil. I would useit for good. Conditions in the industrial world are very critical. Weare rapidly approaching a crisis. In all countries the forces of laborand the forces of capital are lined up in silent, grim battalions. Thepoor are getting poorer; the rich are getting richer. The cost ofliving is going up beyond all reason. Why? Because the men whocontrol the wealth of the world will it so. The system which isresponsible for this must one day, sooner or later, give way to anotherand more humane system, still to be devised, which will enable the manwho produces the wealth of the world at least to enjoy some of thefruits of his toil. Now it goes into the hands of the privileged fewwho use the power their money gives them to keep their less fortunatefellow men in servile subjection. I want to be rich, very rich, but Iwill use my wealth for good. With it I will help my fellow man risefrom the mire. I will help him throw off the shackles with whichconscienceless capitalism has fettered him. I want to be such a powerfor 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 hiswife, 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 thatKenneth looked up in surprise.
"He's shopping, too, I suppose. You know there's little time left andhe 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. Inever liked him."
Her husband laughed. Carelessly he replied:
"I know you never did and it's the only instance since we're marriedwhere I've found dear little wife to be absolutely unfair. Seriously,sweetheart, your baseless prejudice against Francois is unworthy ofyou. I can't go without a servant of some kind. He's an honest fellowand a faithful servant."
Helen shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not so sure about that," she retorted quickly. "What do you knowabout him or his honesty? He's a perfect stranger that blew in threemonths ago from nowhere. He had written recommendations which may beforged. 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 sayshe is a very faithful fellow. He only left him because he objected tobeing compelled to practise sword-play with his master. One dayKeralio's foil slipped. Francois got a puncture and it made himnervous."
"No wonder I don't like him. Like master, like valet--as the Frenchsay."
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 sardonicsmile 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'vefound him useful."
"Don't trust him," replied Helen warningly. "If he makes himselfuseful 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 thanever."
"Come--come dear," protested Kenneth, "that is carrying things too far.Francois is quite a decent chap if you understand him--I find himfaithful, 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 theother day I caught him at your desk reading a letter which you had leftthere."
"A letter?" exclaimed Kenneth, looking up in surprise. "What letter?"
"The letter from your agent at Cape Town, telling of the astonishingdiamond find, and suggesting that an officer of the Company be sent outto bring home the big stone--the letter you read at the director'smeeting 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. Areyou sure he was reading it?"
"He had a pencil and paper in hand and appeared to be copying from theletter. When he saw me, he crushed the paper up in his hand and turnedaway."
Kenneth gave an expressive whistle.
"The deuce you say! The fellow's smarter than I took him to be. Allthe more reason why I should take him along with me. Then I'm sure hecan't tell tales out of school. I----. Hush, here he is!"
The door opened cautiously and there entered a man about thirty yearsof age, of medium height and slightly, even delicately, built. That hewas a Frenchman was apparent even at a glance. The dark closelycropped hair, worn in the so-called pompadour or military style, thepale, saturnine features, the manner and general bearing all loudlyproclaimed his Gallic nationality. His smooth shaven face showed afirm mouth with bloodless lips so thin as to be hardly perceptible.His eyes, when they could be seen at all, were greenish in color, andsmall and restless as those of a ferret. He advanced into the roomwith the obsequious deferential manner which in all well-trainedservants becomes second nature, moving across the thickly carpetedfloor 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 standstill. His nervous thin hands and lean body were in constant motion,although he did not stir from the one spot.
In every involuntarymovement and gesture there was something that suggested the feline.When spoken to or given an order he replied respectfully and obeyedwith alacrity, but when addressed he listened always with eyes averted.This had always exasperated Helen. She could not recall him everlooking her straight in the face. For that reason alone, if, for noother, she disliked and distrusted him, thinking not unnaturally that aman, who is afraid to let his eyes meet another's, must be plotting inhis mind some treachery which he fears his direct gaze may betray. Hisfurtive glances went quickly from master to mistress. Something intheir attitude, the suddenness with which they interrupted theirconversation told him that they had been talking about him.
"Did you hear me?" demanded Kenneth again. "Where have you been? Youknew 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 zetailor."
Kenneth's frown disappeared. Yes, it was true. He had sent him to thetailor. 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 ownpacking. There's no time to be lost. The steamer sails at 11 o'clockto-morrow morning."
"Oui, monsieur."
Quietly, stealthily, the valet retraced his cat-like steps and openingthe door retired as noiselessly as he had come.
The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure Page 2
