The Mask: A Story of Love and Adventure

by H. B. Marriott Watson

  CHAPTER VI

  An awkward silence followed the president's departure. Helen wouldhave detained him had she dared. Being alone with Keralio was verydistasteful to her. Ill at ease in such close proximity to this man,whom she feared even more than she disliked, she sat still withoutsaying a word. Presently between puffs of his cigar, he said:

  "You really don't mind my smoking?"

  "Oh, not at all."

  He bowed and again relapsed into silence. She looked at him sidewaysand wondered why this foreigner had always inspired her with suchdislike. His manner was courteous, and he was decidedly handsome. Hehad white teeth and fine eyes. They were bold eyes, but so were theeyes of other men. They had a habit of looking a woman through andthrough. She always felt embarrassed under his close scrutiny. Itseemed to her as if he were undressing her mentally and took pleasurein surveying critically and admirably every part of her as aconnoisseur examines a statue. She had an uncomfortable feeling whennear him. She was afraid to look straight in his eyes, afraid thatpossibly he might be able to throw some spell over her, exert somehypnotic influence that she would not be able to resist. Sheconsidered him a seductive, dangerous man, the kind of man every purewoman, every wife who wishes to remain faithful to her marriage vowsshould avoid.

  Suddenly while she was looking at him, he turned his head toward her.Before she could prevent it their eyes met.

  He did not avert his gaze, but kept his eyes fixed on hers as if tryingto awaken in her some of his own ardor. She tried to look away, butshe could not. He seemed to hold her there by sheer force of willpower. Frightened, she started to tremble in every limb. Yet, to herastonishment, she had no feeling of anger or resentment. It seemedquite natural that this man should gaze at her in this intimate,caressing way. She found herself taking pleasure in it. Her vanitywas gratified. If he looked at her so persistently, it must be that hethought her pretty. Her face began to burn, her bosom heaved, astrange sensation that heretofore only her husband had been able toarouse, came over her. And still his eyes were on hers, caressing,voluptuous.

  At the other end of this room the game of bridge was still in progress.Ray was winning, as usual, and amusing the men with her wit andvivaciousness. Mr. Steell had glanced over in their direction severaltimes, and he saw enough to convince him that the attentions of thefencing master were unwelcome to their hostess. Had he caught Helen'seye, had she made the slightest sign that she was being annoyed, hewould have instantly left the game and gone over to the window, if onlyto break up the tete-a-tete, but she did not once look up. Suddenly heremembered what had been suggested on the boat. It was an idea. Rayat that moment got up to get some tea, and, profiting by theopportunity, the lawyer leaned over and whispered:

  "Say, Dick, you see that chap over there."

  The young man looked up.

  "Who--the signor?"

  "Yes. What do you know about him?"

  "Nothing good--although nothing very bad for that matter. He's a darkhorse--keeps pretty much to himself. He's well known in the gayresorts, in the gambling houses and where they play the ponies."

  "What's his reputation?"

  "He's known as a liberal spender. He's always flashing big rolls ofmoney----"

  "Where does he get it--not from the fencing school?"

  "No--that's only a blind."

  The lawyer lowered his voice.

  "Dick, my boy, that fellow will bear watching, and you're the man to doit."

  "You want him shadowed?"

  "Yes--find out where he goes, who he knows. My opinion is that hebelongs to an international band of crooks--possibly counterfeiters,smugglers, or blackmailers. If you land him behind the bars you'lldeserve well of your country."

  Dick glanced once or twice in the direction of the object of theirconversation, who, quite unconscious of their scrutiny, was stilltalking earnestly to Helen. The young man smiled, his chest expandedwith satisfaction, and grimly he said:

  "Leave him to me."

  Quite unconscious of the attention he attracted, the Italian turned toHelen.

  "You miss your husband very much?"

  "Yes--terribly."

  "It must be lonely for you."

  "It is," she sighed.

  "Yet you have your sister."

  "Can a sister replace a husband?"

  He gave a low, musical laugh.

  "No--not a sister. A lover is preferable."

  Quickly she retorted:

  "My husband is my lover---my lover is my husband."

  He laughed, as he said:

  "It sounds very pretty, but you must admit that it is rather banal."

  "In what way?"

  He flecked the ash from his cigar.

  "You are too pretty, too charming a woman to be commonplace. Really itspoils you----"

  Ignoring his compliments, she persisted.

  "Do you mean I am commonplace because I call Kenneth my lover. Whatother lover should I or any other woman happily married have? I amfaithful to him--he is loyal to me."

  He gave a little mocking laugh, and was silent. How she hated him forthat laugh! After a pause he said quietly and suggestively:

  "I am sure you are faithful to him----"

  For a moment she looked at him without speaking, eager to resent theimplied imputation on her husband, yet unwilling to give the slandererthe satisfaction of seeing that his thrust had carried home.Concealing as best she could her growing irritation, she said calmly:

  "Don't you suppose _he_ also is faithful to me?"

  Again that horrible, cynical smile. Fixing her with his piercing darkeyes, and, in a manner, the significance of which could not escape her,he said:

  "Don't seek to know too much, Madam. To paraphrase a famous saying:'It's a wise woman who knows her own husband.'"

  Coloring with anger, she said:

  "You mean----"

  "Just what I say--that a woman, a wife cannot possibly be sure of herhusband's fidelity. Think how different are the conditions. The wife,no matter if her temperament be warm or cold, is always at home,surrounded by prying eyes, rarely beset by temptation. The husband isoften away, he goes on business journeys that free him temporarily fromthe chains which keep him in good behavior. If he is good looking, thewomen look at him, flirt with him. It is inevitable. The chances arethat he succumbs to the first adventure--no matter how exemplary ahusband he may be at home. If he is a man--of unusual character, hepasses through the fire unscathed; if he is--just a man, he isattracted to the candle like the proverbial moth and sometimes singeshis wings----"

  She looked at him keenly for a moment as if trying to read on hissphinx-like face if he knew more about Kenneth than he admitted, andthen with forced calmness she said:

  "In your opinion, Signor Keralio--is my husband a man--of unusualcharacter, or is he--just a man?"

  The Italian shrugged his shoulders as he replied deprecatingly:

  "My dear madam, just stop and think a moment. Isn't that a ratherindiscreet question to put to a man--a man who is a friend of yourhusband----"

  Hotly she turned on him.

  "If you are his friend, why do you vilify and slander him behind hisback?"

  Keralio lifted up his long slender hands in pious protest.

  "I vilify--my best friend---- Oh, my dear Mrs. Traynor--you have quitemisunderstood me. I am a foreigner. Perhaps it is that I expressmyself ill."

  She shook her head skeptically. Firmly she said:

  "No, Signor Keralio--you express yourself quite plainly. Now, I'll beequally frank with you. I confess there is one thing I do notunderstand. I have never understood it. I do not understand why myhusband, a man so honorable, so straightforward in his dealings, a manso free from intrigue or reckless adventures, so regular, methodicaland temperate in his habits, a man so entirely apart from the reckless,immoral kind of life you hint at, should have made a friend of_you_----"

  The Italian raised his eyebrows, but there was only an
amused smile onhis bloodless lips as he said with a mock bow:

  "Thank you, madam. You are very flattering."

  "No--I mean it. I don't want to seem unkind, but your temperament andmy husband's are as wide apart as the poles."

  He opened wide his eyes as he asked,

  "In what particular, _s'il vous plait_?"

  "Kenneth is frank, outspoken. He is not the type of man who takes rashrisks. He is very conservative, scrupulously honest. He has fineideals. While you----"

  He laughed loudly.

  "I? I am secretive, cunning, reckless, materialistic--is that it,madam?"

  "I did not say so, but since you draw your portrait so well----"

  He bit his lip. This girl with the flaxen hair and large lustrous eyeswas more than a match for him in a battle of wits. He was making noheadway at all. It was time to play his trump card. Softly he said:

  "You said your husband was judicious, conservative----"

  "So he is."

  "That is a matter of opinion. Some might think otherwise. Of course,it is difficult for a woman when she is blinded by love----"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that your husband is far from being the conservative,afraid-to-take-risks type of man you picture him. You women think youknow your husbands. You know only such part of them as they themselvescare to reveal. Perhaps if you knew to what extent your husband wasinvolved in Wall Street, it would surprise you! Oh, everything isperfectly regular, of course. As treasurer of the Americo-AfricanMining Company, he has at his disposal large sums of money. He is alsotrustee of several large and valuable estates. All of this money he issupposed to invest--conservatively. He certainly invests it. Whetherconservatively or not, I leave others to judge."

  "Do you mean that he is using other people's money in Wall Street?"

  "I mean, my dear lady, that he has the get-rich-quick fever. He has arage for stock gambling--he is already heavily involved. I have oftenwarned him to go slower, to be more prudent, but he won't heed mycounsel. You know, he is very headstrong--your husband. As long aseverything goes well he is all right. If anything goes wrong, he mightfind himself in an unpleasant predicament. Hasn't he spoken to you ofthese matters? Why should he worry you? It is as I told you.Husbands don't tell their wives everything--God forbid!"

  Helen raised her hand. There was the ring of scorn in her voice as sheexclaimed:

  "Don't blaspheme, Signor Keralio. It sounds incongruous to hear thename of the Almighty on the lips of a man of your opinions and tastes.You think you live, but you don't. You go through life, seeking onlyto gratify your appetites, attracted only by material sensualpleasures. You ignore the best part of life--the pursuit of an ideal,a noble ambition, unselfishness, self-sacrifice. Really, Signor, Ipity you--with all my heart."

  He made no answer, but sat in silence watching her. Presently he said:

  "Mrs. Traynor--do you know that you are an extraordinary woman?"

  "In what way?" she demanded, elevating her eyebrows in surprise.

  "You are either the cleverest or the most unsophisticated woman I haveever met. You are attractive enough to send a saint to perdition, yetyou are quite indifferent to the power of your beauty and the tumult itarouses in the men who chance to cross your path. You seem to beabsolutely without feeling. Yet I don't believe you devoid oftemperament. I think I know women. I have met a good many. You donot belong to the type of cold, passionless women."

  Again his eyes sought hers and found them. Again she tried to avoidhis gaze and could not. There was something in his manner, hisgestures, the tone of his voice, that conveyed to her more his realmeaning than his actual words, yet, to her surprise, she was notaroused to anger. Sure of herself, she found herself listening,wondering what he would say next, ready to flee at the first warning ofperil, but playing a dangerous game like the moth in the flame. As shesat back on the sofa, her head in the sofa cushions, he leaned nearerto her, and in those low, musical tones which held her under a kind ofspell, he murmured:

  "You are the cleverest woman I ever met."

  She smiled in spite of herself, and he, mistaking the motive, thoughtshe intended it as an encouragement. He glanced round to see if anyonewas watching them, but Mr. Parker was peacefully dozing in a deeparmchair a dozen yards away, and at the far end of the room Ray, Steelland Reynolds were engrossed in an exciting game of cards. Leaningquickly over, he seized her hand. His voice vibrating with passion, hesaid:

  "Not only the cleverest, but the most desirable of women. Don't yousee that you've set me afire? I'm mad for you! Helen--I want you!"

  For a moment she was too stunned by his insolent daring to withdraw herhand, which he continued to press in his. His eyes flashing, he wenton:

  "Haven't you seen all along that I love you--desperately, passionately.You've set me afire. I'm mad for you. Let me awaken that love that'sin your breast, but which your husband has never awakened. Let me----"

  He did not finish, for that moment a small, jeweled hand, suddenly tornfrom his grasp, struck him full on the mouth. Rising and trying withdifficulty to control the emotion in her voice, she said quickly:

  "You'd better go now--so as to prevent a scandal. If they knew, itmight be awkward for you. Of course, you must never come here again."

  That was all. She swept away from him with the dignity of an offendedqueen. The silence was deadly. All one heard was the silk rustle ofher gown as she moved across the floor.

  "It's my say," exclaimed Ray.

  "I lead with trumps," said Steell.

  "Signor Keralio has to go. Isn't it too bad!"

  Mr. Steell and Dick rose and bowed politely.

  There was nothing to be done. He was ignominiously dismissed like alackey caught pilfering. But there was black wrath in his heart as hepicked himself up, and turning to the others, he bowed and said:

  "Good night."