But overshadowing these preoccupations at present were those other new anxieties which preyed upon her sensitive mind with all the force of an obsession. Was there any part of her husband's life that he had hidden from her? Was he really as loyal as she had always fondly and blindly believed; had his ambition led him to take grave financial risks that might one day jeopardize their comfort and happiness, the very future of their child?

Ray rose to put away the tea table, and she found herself sitting alone with the lawyer. There was a moment's silence, and then, as if thinking out aloud what was on her mind, she said:

"Thank God, he's safe; I had the most fearful premonitions——"

The lawyer laughed.

"Don't put your trust in premonitions—things happen or they don't happen. It's absurd to believe that misfortunes are all prepared beforehand."

"Then you are not a fatalist?"

"Decidedly not. I hope I have too much intelligence to believe in anything so foolish."

"Do you believe in a Supreme Being who has the same power to suddenly snuff us out of existence as he had to create us?"

"I neither believe nor disbelieve. Frankly, I do not know. What people call God, Jehovah, Nature, according to my reasoning, is an astounding energy, a marvellous chemical process, created and controlled by some unknown, stupendous first cause, the origin of which man may never understand. How should he? He has not time. We are rushed into the world without preparation. We are ignorant, helpless, blind. Gradually, by dint of much physical labor and mental toil, we succeed in ferreting out a few facts regarding ourselves and the physical laws that govern us. We are just on the verge of discovering more—we are just beginning to understand and enjoy life—when suddenly we find ourselves growing old and decrepit. Our physical and mental powers fail us, and the same force that benevolently created us now mercilessly destroys us, and we are hurled, willy-nilly, back into eternity whence we came. Rather absurd, isn't it?"

Intensely interested Helen looked up. Eagerly she exclaimed:

"You have a whole system of philosophy in a mere handful of words, haven't you?"

He smiled.

"It's all one needs, and perhaps as good as those more complicated and more verbose."

More seriously and lowering her voice so Ray, who was still busy at the other end of the room, might not overhear, she said:

"Mr. Steell—you are so clever—you know all about everything. Tell me, do you know anything about Wall Street?"

The ingenuousness of the question amused him. With a laugh he answered:

"A little—to my sorrow."

"It's a dangerous place, isn't it?"

"Very; it has a graveyard at one end, the East River at the other, two places highly convenient at times to those who play the game."

"If luck goes against him, a man could lose his all, then?"

"Not only his all but the all of others, too—if he's that kind of a man."

She was silent for a moment. Then she continued:

"And sometimes even fine, honest men are tempted, are they not, to gamble with money which is not theirs?"

"Many have done so. The prisons are full of them. There is nothing so dangerous as the get-rich-quick fever. All the men who gamble in stocks have it. It becomes a mania, an obsession. Their judgment becomes warped; they lose all sense of right and wrong."

"There's something else I want to ask you. What do you think of Signor Keralio?"

He hesitated a moment before he answered. Then, with some warmth, he said:

"As I told you before, I think he's a crook, only we can't prove it. I've been looking up his record. It's a bad one. The fellow has behaved himself so far in New York, but out West he is known under various names as one of the slickest rogues that ever escaped hanging. At one time he was the chief of a band of international crooks and blackmailers that operated in London, Paris, Buenos Ayres, and the City of Mexico. The scheme they usually worked was to get some prominent man so badly compromised that he would pay any amount to save himself from exposure, and they played so successfully on the fears of their victims that they were usually successful."

A worried look came into the young wife's face. Perhaps there was more in Signor Keralio's relations with her husband than she had suspected. Quickly she asked:

"Why do they permit a man of that character to be at large?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

"You can't proceed against a man unless there is some specific charge made. The police have nothing now against him. He may have reformed for all I know. But that was his record some years ago."

"I don't think he'll dare come here again," went on Helen. "He's exceedingly offensive, and yet he has about him a certain magnetism that compels your attention, even while his manner and look repels and irritates. Only the other day he——"

Before she could complete the sentence, there was a loud ring at the front door bell. Helen hastily rose, but Ray had already gone forward.

"It's Mr. Parker," she cried. "I saw him coming from the window."

The next instant the door of the drawing-room was flung open and Mr. Parker appeared.

"Hallo, ladies! Howdy, Steell!"

The president of the Americo-African Mining Company was not looking his usual debonair self that evening. His manner was nervous and flustered, his face pale and drawn with anxious lines. His coat lacked the customary boutonniere, and his crumpled linen and unshaved chin suggested that he had come direct from his office after a strenuous day without stopping to go through the formality of making a change of attire.

Helen was quick to note the alteration in his appearance, and her first instinct, naturally, was to associate it with her husband. Something was amiss.

"There's nothing wrong, is there?" she asked in alarm.

"No, no, my dear woman!"

But his tone was not convincing. He always called her "my dear woman" when nervous or excited, and "my dear lady" in his calmer moods. She at once remarked it, and it did not tend to reassure her. Now greatly alarmed she laid a trembling hand on his arm.

"Tell me, please! Don't hide anything from me. Has anything happened to Kenneth?"

"No—no; of course not." Quickly changing the subject he asked: "You got a message."

"Yes—a cablegram. It came just now."

"Have you got it? Let me see it."

"Yes, certainly," said Helen, looking around for the dispatch. Unable to find it, she called to her sister.

"Ray, dear, what did you do with Kenneth's cablegram?"

Her sister came up to assist in the search, in which even Mr. Steell joined. But the search was fruitless. The cablegram had disappeared.

"Oh, I know!" suddenly exclaimed Ray. "It must have been carried away with the tea things."

"That's right! I never thought of that!" said Helen.

The next instant the two women hurried out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The instant they had disappeared Mr. Parker turned to the lawyer. In a whisper he said:

"There is terrible news! I don't know how to break it to the poor woman——"

Steell sprang forward. Anxiously he exclaimed:

"Terrible news? Surely not——"

The president nodded.

"Yes—all lost, and the diamonds, too. A dispatch just received in London says that, according to a wireless relayed from Cape Town, the Abyssinia caught fire twelve hours after sailing from that port and all on board perished. It is shocking, and the pecuniary loss to us disastrous. The stones were not insured. Hush! Here they come. Not a word!"

"My God!" muttered the lawyer, as he fell back and turned away, so they might not see the effect which the shocking news had made on him. With an effort he managed to control himself.

The two women entered the room joyfully.

"Here it is!" cried Helen exultantly, as she brandished the missing telegram. "You see, he's just sailed, and all's well."

The president said nothing, but, taking the dispatch from her hands, slowly read it. Nodding his head, he said slowly:

"Yes—he's just sailed, and—all's well."

"When do you think he'll be here?" questioned the young hostess, looking anxiously up into his face.

The president shook his head.

"That is hard to tell," he answered evasively.

Mr. Steell had gone to the window, where he stood looking out, idly drumming his fingers on the pane. How was it possible to break such fearful tidings as that? What a horrible calamity! He wished himself a hundred miles away, yet some one must tell her. At that moment shrill cries arose in the street outside—the familiar, distressing, almost exultant cries of news-venders, glad of any calamity that puts a few nickels into their pockets.

"Ex-tra! Ex-tra! Special ex-tra!"

"What's that?" exclaimed Helen apprehensively. The sound of special editions always filled her with anxiety, especially since Kenneth's departure.

"Ex-tra! Ex-tra! Special edition! Ex-tra! Big steamer gone down. Great loss of life. Extra!"

Her face was pale, as she turned and looked at the others, who also stood in silence, listening to the hoarse accents of distress.

"A steamer gone down!" she faltered. "Isn't that terrible? I wonder what steamer it was."

Ray ran to the door.

"I'll get a paper," she said.

Before Mr. Parker or Mr. Steell could prevent her the young girl had opened the front door. Now there was no way of preventing Helen knowing. The best thing was to prepare her gently.

"My dear Mrs. Traynor—I didn't tell you the trouble just now. There has been a little trouble. The Abyssinia——"

Helen gave a cry of anguish.

"I knew it! I knew it! Kenneth is dead!"

"No, no, my dear lady. These newspaper reports are always grossly exaggerated. The Abyssinia has met with a little trouble—nothing very serious, I assure you. Everything is all right, no doubt. Your husband is well able to take care of himself. We may hear from him any moment, reassuring us as to his safety."

His words of comfort went unheeded. Her face white as death Helen tottered rather than walked to the door, reaching it just as Ray, almost as pale, entered, reading the paper she had just purchased. On seeing her sister she instinctively made an effort to hide the sheet, but Helen quickly snatched it out of her hand. Her hand trembling so violently that she could scarcely make out the letters she glanced at the big scare-head, printed in red ink, to imitate blood, a merciful custom sensational newspapers have of making the most of the agony of others.

S. S. ABYSSINIA GONE DOWN! ALL PERISH!

For a moment she stood still, looking at the big type with open, staring eyes. Then, with a low cry, like a wounded animal, she let the paper slip from her nerveless fingers. There was a furious throbbing at her temples: her heart seemed to stop. The room spun round, and she fainted just as Steell rushed forward to catch her in his arms.

"Brandy! Brandy!" he shouted. "She's fainted!"

While Ray ran for the smelling salts and Mr. Parker was bringing the brandy there came another vigorous pull at the bell. An instant later the maid entered with a cablegram, which Mr. Parker seized and tore open. As he read the contents, a look of the greatest surprise and joy lit up his face.

"Look at this!" he cried.

"What is it?" demanded Steell, still on his knees trying to revive the unconscious woman.

"This will do her more good than all your brandy."

"What is it?" cried Ray impatiently.

"He's safe!" cried Mr. Parker exultantly.

"Safe!" they all cried.

"Yes—safe." Handing the dispatch to the lawyer, he added: "Here—read this."

Steell took the dispatch and read:

CAPE TOWN, Saturday: Miraculously saved. Sail to-morrow on the Zanzibar. KENNETH.



CHAPTER XI

The house of mourning had suddenly become transformed into a house of joy.

From the deepest abyss of hopeless despair Helen, during the next few days, was raised to the highest pinnacle of human felicity. Kenneth was safe, that was all she wanted to know. Whether he had succeeded or not in saving the diamonds she did not know or care.

Nothing more had been heard from him. Cable dispatches reported the Zanzibar to be making good time on her way to Southampton, but, until the steamer arrived there, no further details were to be expected. Much, however, had been gleaned as to the fate of the Abyssinia, and, as the accounts of disaster began to come in, she could only thank God that he had succeeded in escaping such a fearful fate. The ship had mysteriously caught fire the first day out from Cape Town, and, in the excitement, the crew, as well as the passengers, lost their heads. Only one boat could be lowered, and in this Kenneth got away, together with Francois, his valet, and some other passengers. A news item in connection with the affair, which was of particular interest to Helen, ran as follows:

"The loss of the Abyssinia brought to a tragic ending a remarkable romance in which Mr. Kenneth Traynor, one of the rescued passengers and a prominent New York broker, is one of the principal figures. Mr. Traynor is one of two twins so identical in appearance that no one, not even their own mother, knew them apart. One of the children mysteriously disappeared when a mere child and was believed to be dead. Mr. Kenneth Traynor went recently to South Africa on business, and on the diamond fields found in starving condition an unlucky miner who was a perfect counterpart of himself. It was his lost brother. Mutual explanations followed and the identity was established. Overjoyed at the reunion the two brothers sailed for home on the Abyssinia. Suddenly came the alarm of fire. While the panic on board was at its worst, the broker lost sight of his brother, whom he never saw again and whom it is only too certain went down with the ship."

"It's almost unbelievable, isn't it?" exclaimed Helen, as she read the paragraph for the hundredth time and handed it to Wilbur Steell, who had dropped in to hear if there was any news.

Ray, who loved a mystery better than anything else in the world, clapped her hands.

"Isn't it perfectly stunning?"

"Not for Kenneth's brother—poor fellow," said Helen reprovingly. "He did not live long to enjoy his bettered condition."

"That's right. How thoughtless of me!" said Ray contritely.

As he finished reading Mr. Steell looked puzzled. Looking toward Helen he asked:

"Did you know that your husband had a twin brother?"

"I only knew it recently—just before he sailed. He did not know it himself."

"How did he find it out?"

"His old nurse told him. I was present."

"Did the nurse know the brother was in South Africa?"

"No—she had no idea of it. I'm sure of that. It's one of those wonderful coincidences one some-times hears of."

The lawyer shook his head. Thoughtfully he said:

"It's certainly strange—one of the strangest things I ever heard of."

"Kenneth will be able to tell us more about it when he comes," said Ray.

"Yes—no doubt," asserted her sister quickly.

The lawyer remained thoughtful for a moment. Then, lightly he said:

"We ought to give Kenneth a rousing welcome home. After such experiences as he has had he richly deserves it."

Eagerly Helen caught at the suggestion.

"By all means!" she cried. "Suppose we give a dinner, followed by a dance."

"Oh, lovely!" said Ray.

"The night following his arrival," went on Helen enthusiastically. "We'll make it quite an affair and invite everyone we know—the Parkers, the Galloways, the Fentons, everybody——"

"Don't forget me!" interrupted Steell.

"Oh, you, of course!" Roguishly she added: "Aren't you one of the family?"

He looked at her and smiled. In an undertone which Ray, too busy looking at the paper, did not hear, he added:

"Not yet, but I hope to be."

"The sooner the better, Wilbur," she said earnestly. With a significant glance at her sister she added, "Don't let her keep you waiting too long."

Every hour brought nearer the happy day when they would see Kenneth again. A cablegram from England reported that the Zanzibar had reached Southampton. Closely following this came a brief message from Kenneth himself, stating that he was on the point of sailing for New York on the Adriatic. In five more days he would be in New York.

Expectation now reached fever heat, the excitement being communicated to everyone in the house. Every time the front door bell rang there was a rush downstairs in the hope that it might be another message.

Ray, bubbling over with excitement, was almost as eager as her sister.

"Won't it be jolly to go down to the dock and meet him?"

Helen shook her head.

"I won't go to meet him. I prefer to be here when he arrives." Anxiously she added: "I hope everything is all right."

"Why shouldn't it be all right?"

Her sister was silent. It seemed absurd, when everything seemed to point to her happiness, that she should still feel depressed and nervous, but, somehow, she could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong. It was certainly strange that no letter had been received from Kenneth since the accident. Yet perhaps it was wicked of her to expect more. She ought to be grateful that he had been spared. Almost unconsciously she remarked:

"Isn't it strange that Ken hasn't written for so long? I haven't had a line from him since he left Cape Town."

"Yes—you have," protested her sister. "You had a cablegram telling you of his safety."

"A cablegram—yes, but no letter. I have had no letter since he left Cape Town."

"That's true. But how could he write? He has been traveling faster than the mails."

"I hope he's not hurt."

"Of course not. You would have heard it before this. Bad news travels fast."

Every moment from now on was devoted to getting the house ready for the arrival of its lord and master. Ray had skilfully fashioned out of red letters on white paper, a big "Welcome" sign, which was to be suspended in the hall on the complacent horns of two gigantic moose heads, souvenirs of a month's vacation in the Adirondacks. While this was being done downstairs Helen busied herself in the library and bedroom, getting ready the things for his comfort—his dressing-gown, his slippers, his pipe. She detested pipes, as do most women, but she could not refrain from giving this pipe a furtive kiss, as she laid it lovingly on the table within easy reach of the arm-chair. The maids, changed since he went away, were laboriously instructed in what they should and should not do, what towels should be put in the luxurious bathroom, what pajamas should be laid on the bed.

Well Helen remembered the first time she had entered this bedroom. Just married, in the full flush of her new-found happiness, it had all seemed so beautiful, so ideal. The dull pink color scheme, so chaste and delicate, the gracefully carved furniture, so luxurious and elegant, the cupids flying above the massive beautifully carved bed, a veritable bower of love—all this seemed only a realization of her girlhood dreams of what married life should be. And now Kenneth was coming back, after his long absence in South Africa, it would be like getting married all over again.

The next four days seemed longer than any Helen had ever spent in all her life. The delay was interminable. The minutes appeared to be like hours, the hours like days. Having to wait patiently for what one desired so ardently was simply intolerable. She tried to divert her mind by busying herself about the library, dusting his favorite books, tidying his papers, but constantly came back the thoughts that filled her with uneasiness, a vague, undefinable alarm. Was he all right?

At last the great day arrived. A Western Union telegram announced that the Adriatic would dock at 2 o'clock. Long before that time, Ray, unable to restrain her impatience, was on her way down town, accompanied by Mr. Steell, while Helen, her face a little paler than usual, her heart beating a little faster, sat in the great recessed window of the library, and waited for the arrival of the loved one.

Anxiously, impatiently, she watched the hands of the clock move round. How exasperatingly slow it was: how indifferent it seemed to her happiness! If the ship docked at two they could hardly arrive at the house until four. It would take at least two hours to get through the customs. Oh, would the moment never come when she would see his dear face and clasp him in her arms?

It was nearly half past two when suddenly the front door bell rang. Her heart leaping to her mouth, she rushed to the top of the stairs. It was only Mr. Parker, who had dropped in on the chance of finding his associate already arrived.

To-day the president of the Americo-African Mining Company was in the highest spirits. Everything had gone according to his expectations. Kenneth was home with the big diamonds safe in his possession. The directors could not fail to give him (Parker) credit for his sagacity and enterprise. The stocks of the company would soar above par. Fortune was smiling on them in no uncertain way. Was it a wonder he was feeling in the best of humors?

"How do you know the diamonds are safe?" questioned Helen anxiously. "In such a terrible panic as there must have been on that ship a man thinks only of saving himself."

"Pshaw!" replied the president confidently. "I'm as sure of it as that I'm here. It was understood that he was never to part with the stones under any circumstances. They are in a belt he wears round his waist next to his skin. If the diamonds were not here, Kenneth would not be here. Knowing he is safe I am convinced that they are safe."

"Will you wait here until he comes?"

"No, I can't. There's a meeting of the directors this afternoon. I must attend. I'll call him up on the telephone——"

"But you are coming to dinner this evening——"

"Yes, yes, of course." With a smile he added: "Now, don't get too spoony when he comes, or else Ken will have no head for business."

"No fear," laughed Helen. "We are too long married for that."

"Well, good-bye. I'll see you later."

The president took his hat and turned to go. As he reached the door he turned round.

"By the bye, have you seen Signor Keralio lately?"

Helen's face grew more serious.

"No—Signor Keralio does not call here any more-at my request."

The president gave a low, expressive whistle. Holding out his hand he said:

"Got his walking papers, eh? Well, I guess if you don't like him he isn't much good. I never did care for the look of him."

"Why did you ask?" she inquired.

"I was just curious—that's all. He's a persistent, uncomfortable kind of man. I don't like his face. It's a face I wouldn't trust——"

"That's why he's not coming here any more," she replied calmly. "He forgot himself and that was the end——"

The president turned to go.

"Well, good-bye. Ken will be here soon."

"Good-bye."

He went away, and once more Helen resumed her lonely vigil at the library window, straining her ears to catch the direction of every passing car, catching her breath with suspense as each pedestrian came into view. They could not be much longer. She wondered if he had missed her as much as she had him. No, men do not feel these things in the way women do. They are too busy—their minds too much preoccupied with their work. The turmoil of affairs absorbed their attention.

The clock struck the three-quarters, and the reverberations of the chimes had not entirely died away, when through the partly opened window came the sound of a taxicab suddenly stopping in front of the door.

At last he had come! It was surely Kenneth. Her bosom heaving with suppressed excitement she ran to the stairs and was already in the lower hall before the maid had answered the bell. Quickly she threw open the door, eager to throw herself in the traveler's arms. A tall shadow darkened the doorway. It was Francois, the French valet.

Helen fell back in dismay.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, looking over his shoulder to see if Kenneth were following. "Where is your master?"

A curious expression, half-defiant, half-cunning, came over the servant's face, as he replied:

"Monsieur coming. He sent me ahead with light baggage. He detained at customs."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, disappointed. "When will he be here?"

"He come presently—perhaps quarter of an hour."

"How is your master?"

"He very well, except his eyes—they bother him a leetle."

Helen stared at him in alarm.

"His eyes," she exclaimed. "What is the matter with his eyes?"

The valet avoided her direct gaze, and, shifting uneasily on his feet, began to fuss with the leather bags he was carrying. Awkwardly he said:

"Didn't madame hear?"

"Hear what?" she gasped, now thoroughly alarmed.

The man put out his hand deprecatingly.

"Oh, it's nothing to make madame afraid. It will soon be all right. I assure madame——"

"But tell me what it is, will you?" she interrupted impatiently. "Don't have so much to say—tell me what it is——"

"It was when the ship caught fire, madame. We were running to ze life-boat, monsieur and me, when suddenly——"

"Well—what?" she almost shouted, in agony of suspense.

"Monsieur tripped over a coil of rope and fell——"

Almost unconscious in her excitement of what she was doing Helen laid her hand on the man's arm. Terror-stricken she cried:

"He didn't hurt himself seriously, did he?"

The valet shook his head.

"No, madame—not seriously. He struck his head against a chair and just graze ze eye. It is nothing serious, I assure madame. The doctor says that if he wears blue spectacles for few months he will be all right."

"Oh, he wears blue spectacles, does he?"

"Yes, madame, he must. Ze eye is inflamed and cannot stand ze strong light."

"Poor Kenneth!" she murmured, half-aloud. "I shall hardly know him in blue spectacles."

The valet, who had been watching her like a hawk out of his half-closed, sleepy-looking eyes, overheard the remark. Quickly he said:

"Of course, madame must expect to find monsieur a little changed. What we went through was epouvantable, something awful. We just escaped with our lives. For days monsieur was so nervous he was hardly able to speak a word. Even now he stops at times——"

Helen looked at him in wonder.

"'He stops!' What do you mean?"

The valet turned away, and for a moment was silent. Then, as if making a great effort, he turned and said:

"Madame will pardon me, but she must be brave and not show monsieur she notices any change. Ze doctor said it was a terrible shock to his nervous system—that fire. Monsieur has not been ze same since, pas du tout ze same. Ze doctor he says that these symptoms will all disappear once he gets home and has a good rest. It is only ze shock, I assure madame."

Helen listened appalled, her face growing whiter each moment, her lips trembling. He had met with an accident, then, after all! Her instinct had spoken truly. Her darling was ill. That explained his long silence. He had been too ill to write. He had gone through a terrible shock and he had come home ill, very ill, quite changed. Her voice faltering she said:

"What are the symptoms?"

"Monsieur's memory is so bad, madame. He forgets. Only to-day, as ze ship came up ze harbor, I ask monsieur if he expect madame to meet us at ze dock. C'est vraiment incroyable! He turned to me, with a look of ze greatest surprise, and asked: 'Who ze devil is madame?'"

"What! Didn't he seem to remember me, even?" A look of distress came over her face.

The valet shook his head.

"Non, madame." Quickly he added: "But it is nothing. It is only temporary."

"Didn't he know my sister and Mr. Steell? Didn't they greet him at the dock?"

"Yes, madame. They spoke to him and he spoke to them. But he was not himself. They seemed surprised. They will tell madame."

Helen fell back, sick and faint. Why had she not known this before? She would have gone down to meet him, thrown herself weeping into his arms. He would have known her then—who better than he would recognize that perfume he loved so well? He would have taken her in his strong arms and kissed her passionately. If he was not himself it was because he was ill. The shock had affected his memory! Poor darling husband, he must be well nursed. A few days of her devoted care and he would be all right again. Of course, it was nothing serious. Kenneth had led too clean and wholesome a life for anything grave to be the matter. If only he would come! God grant that he return to her as he went away!

As the unspoken prayer died away on her lips, there was the chugging of an automobile stopping suddenly at the curb.

"Les voici!" cried Francois, dropping into his native tongue in his excitement.

He threw open the wide doors and the next instant Ray ran up the steps. Helen, weak and dizzy from nervous tension, feeling as if she were about to faint, met her on the threshold.

"Kenneth!" she gasped. "Is he all right?"

"Certainly—he's fine. He's a little tired and nervous after the long journey, and the blue spectacles he wears make him look different, but he's all right."

The wife looked searchingly, eagerly at the young girl's face, as if seeking to read there what she dreaded to ask, and it seemed to her that the customary ring of sincerity was lacking in her sister's voice.

"Where is he—why isn't he with you?'

"Here he is now—don't you see him?"

Helen looked out. There came the tall, familiar figure she knew so well, the square shoulders, the thick bushy hair, with its single white lock so strangely isolated among the brown. Her heart fell as she saw the blue glasses. They veiled from her view those dear blue eyes, so kind and true. They made him look different. But what did she care as long as he had come home to her? Even with the horrid glasses, that dear form she would know in a thousand!

Slowly he came up the long flight of stone steps, weighted down by traveling rugs and handbag, both of which he refused to surrender to the obsequious Francois. Eagerly she rushed down the steps to meet him, her eyes half-closed, ready to swoon from excitement and joy. Nothing was said. He opened his arms. She put up her mouth, tenderly, submissively. For a moment he seemed to hesitate. He held her tight in his embrace, and just looked down at her. Then, as he felt the warmth of her soft, yielding body next to his, and saw the partly opened mouth, ready to receive his kiss, he bent down and fastened his lips on hers.



CHAPTER XII

For one blissful, ecstatic moment Helen lay tight in his embrace, nestling against the breast of the one being she loved better than anyone else in the world, responding with involuntary vibrations of her own body to the gust of fiery passion that swept his. But only for a moment. The next instant she had torn herself violently free, and was gazing, wonderingly, fearfully, up into his face, trying to penetrate those glasses which veiled, as it were, the windows of his soul. Why she broke away so abruptly from his embrace she could not herself have explained. Something within her, some instinct to which her reason was unable to give a name, made her body revolt against the unusual ardor of the caress. Strange! Never before had she felt so embarrassed at Kenneth's demonstrations of affection.

"How are you, dear?" she murmured, when at last she could find words.

She had not yet heard the sound of his beloved voice, and when at last he answered her it seemed to her ears only like an echo of its former self, so exhausted and wearied was he by what he had gone through.

"Very tired, sweetheart," he replied huskily. "I shall need a long rest."

She led the way into the house and up the stairs, where everything had been so elaborately prepared for his welcome. In the bedroom she pointed with pride to the real Valenciennes lace coverlet put on in his honor, and showed him the dressing-gown and slippers so lovingly laid out. He looked at everything, but made no comment. She half expected a few words of praise, but none were forthcoming. While affectionately demonstrative he was unusually reticent. She wondered what worry he could have on his mind to make him act so strangely and suddenly Keralio's words of warning came to her mind. Was there a side to his life of which she knew nothing? Were his thoughts elsewhere, even while he was with her? Quickly there came a look of dismay and anxiety, which he was not slow to notice. Instantly on his guard, he murmured in a low tone:

"Forgive me, dear, I can't talk now. I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open."

Instantly her apprehension was forgotten in her desire to make him comfortable.

"That's right, dear. You must be dead with fatigue. You'll take a nice nap and when you wake up it will be time for dinner. I've planned a nice little party to celebrate your return—only a few intimates—Mr. Parker is coming, and Wilbur Steell, and a young man named Dick Reynolds, an acquaintance of Wilbur's. You won't mind such old friends, will you?"

He shook his head.

"No, indeed. I'm very tired, now, but I'll be all right in a few minutes."

"Of course you will," she smiled, as she removed the handsome lace coverlet from the bed. "No one will disturb you. My darling hubbie can sleep as sound as a top, and, when he wakes, we'll talk a terrible lot, won't we?" Looking up roguishly, as she smoothed his pillow for him, she added shyly: "There are two pillows here now. There has been only one while you were away——"

For the first time he seemed to evince interest in what she was saying. His eyes flashed behind the blue spectacles, and his hands trembled, as he quickly made a step forward and put his arm round her waist.

"There'll always be two in the future, won't there?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes, of course there will," she laughed,

"To-night?" he insisted.

"Yes, of course," she said, her color heightening slightly under the persistency of his gaze. What a foolish question! Changing the topic she added, with a laugh: "Now, take your coat off, like a good boy, and go to sleep. I'll go down and keep the house quiet. When it's time to get up, I'll come back."

"Don't go yet," he murmured, looking at her ardently. Taking her hand caressingly he tried to lead her to the sofa. "Sit down here. I won't sleep yet. Let us talk. I have so much to say."

Firmly Helen withdrew from his embrace.

"No, no; I won't stay a moment," she said decisively. "Not now. You must behave yourself. We'll talk all you want to to-night. But not now. You are very tired. The sleep will do you good. Now be a good boy—go to bed."

He tried to intercept her before she reached the door, but she was too quick for him. She went out and was about to close the door behind her when he called out:

"Please send Francois to me."

She nodded.

"Yes, dear, I will. Of course you need him. Why didn't I think of it before?"

She closed the door and went downstairs. It was hard to believe that he was back home. How long she had waited for this day, and, even now it had come, the void did not seem filled. There still seemed something wanting. What it was, she did not know, yet it was there.

In the dining-room she ran into Ray, who had her arms filled with magnificent American beauty roses.

"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Helen enthusiastically. "Where did you get those flowers?"

The young girl laughed. "They're a present from me and Wilbur—in honor of Kenneth's arrival. Where is he?"

"Upstairs—he's going to lie down until dinner is ready. Poor soul—he's almost dead with fatigue."

"Has he got the diamonds?"

Helen gasped. She hadn't thought of that. In all the excitement the real object of her husband's trip to South Africa had quite escaped her mind.

"I don't know," she said quickly. "I haven't asked him. We've hardly exchanged a dozen words. He'll tell us later. Was nothing said about them at the Customs? Didn't he declare them?"

"No—I thought it was strange. That's why I asked you if he had them. Possibly he left them to be cut in Amsterdam."

Helen grew thoughtful.

"I don't know. He'll tell us later."

Ray filled the vases with the flowers, while Helen busied herself at the buffet, getting out all the pretty silverware with which the dinner table was to be decorated. The young girl hummed lightly as she decorated the room with the fragrant blossoms.

"Isn't it lovely that Kenneth is back?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed."

"I hardly knew him at first in those spectacles."

"I'm not surprised at that."

"If it hadn't been for that white patch of hair I don't think we could have picked him out of the crowd. There was an awful crush there."

There was a pause, and then Helen asked:

"How do you think he looks?"

"About the same," replied the girl carelessly. "He doesn't seem in as good spirits as when he went away. He is very quiet. He hardly spoke a word to us on the way home. Possibly he has some business anxiety on his mind."

"Did he ask about me?"

"Yes—you were his first question."

"Did you tell him about Dorothy?"

"That she was not so well? Yes."

"What did he say? Was he worried?"

"Not particularly. I think men are more sensible in those matters than we women. He knows baby is well taken care of." Changing the subject, the young girl went on: "I hope everybody will be jolly to-night. I've made up my mind to have a good time."

Helen sighed.

"I'm feeling a little uneasy about Dorothy. I got a letter this morning from Aunt Carrie, saying she was not feeling so well. The doctor was going to see her to-day, and, if she got worse, they said they'd telegraph."

Ray looked at her sister in consternation.

"What would you do then?"

"I would have to go at once to Philadelphia."

"And Kenneth just come home—oh, Helen!"

"I couldn't help it. Kenneth couldn't go. Somebody must go. The child could not be left alone. Who should go better than its mother?"

Ray made a gesture of protest.

"Well, don't let's imagine the worst. Dorothy won't get worse. To-morrow you'll get a reassuring letter, and your worries will be over."

"I hope so," smiled Helen.

Leaving the task of sorting the knives and forks Ray came over to where Helen was standing. The young girl pointed to all the vases filled with the crimson roses.

"How do you like that?" she exclaimed.

"Beautiful!"

There was a brief silence, both women being preoccupied by their thoughts, when Ray, in her usual vivacious, impulsive way, burst out:

"Sis, I have something to tell you."

Helen looked up quickly.

"Something to tell me—something good?"

"I'm so happy! I'm engaged at last."

"To Wilbur, of course?"

"Yes."

Helen gave an exclamation of joy.

"Oh, I'm so glad. When did it happen? Tell me all about it—quick."

"He proposed to-day, and I said yes. We're to be married in two months."

The next moment the two women were in each other's arms.

"I'm so glad—so glad," murmured Helen. "I hope you'll both be very, very happy."

"We certainly shall if we are like you and Kenneth. Wilbur says that your example is the one thing that decided him to make the plunge."

Helen smiled.

"You'll have one advantage I don't enjoy. Your husband, being a lawyer, won't be taking trips to South Africa all the time."

"Oh, I don't know," laughed the girl; "it's sometimes nice to lose sight of each other for a time. The lovemaking is all the more furious when your husband gets back."

"Yes—unless he happens to meet some other charmer on his travels."

"Oh, nonsense, Helen—men don't really have such adventures. That only happens in novels."

"I hope so," murmured her sister.

"Oh, by the bye," exclaimed Ray, "who do you suppose we saw on the dock?"

"Who?"

"That horrid creature—Signor Keralio."

Helen looked up in surprise.

"Keralio? What was he doing there? Did he speak to you?"

"No—he seemed to avoid us. Once I got lost for a moment in the crush, and, as I turned, I thought I saw him talking earnestly to Kenneth and Francois. Of course I must have been mistaken, for, when I finally rejoined them, both denied having seen him!"

"Keralio!" murmured Helen. "How strange! That man seems to pursue us like some evil genius. No matter where we go, he follows like a shadow. Oh, I forgot all about Francois. Where is he?"

"Downstairs."

Helen touched a bell.

"Why do you need him?"

"Kenneth wants him. I forgot all about it. All his things need putting away. The litter upstairs is simply terrible."

"There won't be much time for unpacking," objected Ray. "It's half-past five already. We'll soon have to think of dressing for dinner."

Suddenly the door opened and Francois appeared. He entered quietly, stealthily, and, advancing to where his mistress was, stood in silence, awaiting her orders.

"Your master wants you upstairs, Francois."

The man bowed.

"Bien, madame!"

"Tell Mr. Traynor not to keep you too long, because there's a lot of work to be done downstairs before dinner."

"Bien, madame."

The man lingered in the room, arranging the chairs, and fussing about the table, until he began to make Helen nervous. Peremptorily she said:

"You had better go, Francois; monsieur is waiting for you."

The valet bowed obsequiously, and left the room, shutting the door carefully. Instead of proceeding immediately upstairs, he stopped for a moment behind the closed door and listened intently. But, unable to overhear the two women, who were conversing in an undertone, he hurried upstairs toward his employer's bedroom. Arrived on the landing, he went straight to the room, and, without stopping for the formality of knocking, he turned the handle and went in.



CHAPTER XIII

Instead of finding his master resting from his fatigue, as Mrs. Traynor had said, Francois discovered the new arrival very much awake. He was sitting in front of Helen's bureau, eagerly perusing a bundle of private letters tied with blue ribbon, which he had taken from a drawer. As the door opened, he jumped up quickly, as if detected committing a dishonorable action; but, when he saw who it was, his face relaxed and he gave a grim nod of recognition.

"Lock the door!" he said in a whisper. "It won't do to have anyone come in here now."

The valet turned the key, and, dropping entirely the obsequious manner of the paid menial, threw himself carelessly into a chair. Taking from his pocket a richly chased silver cigarette box, loot from former houses where he had been employed, he struck a match on the highly polished Circassian walnut chair, and proceeded to enjoy a smoke.

His companion looked at him anxiously.

"Well?" he demanded hoarsely. "Is it all right? What do they say? Does anyone suspect?"

The Frenchman gracefully emitted from between his thin lips a thick cloud of blue smoke, and broke into a laugh that, under the circumstances, sounded strangely hollow and sinister.

"Suspect?" he chuckled. "Why should they suspect? Are you not ze same man who went away—ze same build, ze same face, ze same voice, ze same in every particular—except one. Zat you have not—non—you have not ze education, ze fine manners, ze savoir faire of monsieur." With that expressive shrug of the shoulder, so characteristic of his nation, he added: "Mais que voulez vous? We must do ze best we can."

His listener struck the brass bed-post savagely with his heavy fist. With a burst of profanity he broke out:

"Yes, damn him! He had all the advantages. I had none. But it's my turn now. I want all that's coming to me."

"Hush!" exclaimed the valet, raising his finger warningly. "Zey may hear. Everything will be all right. We must be very careful. You must not talk. You must avoid people. Let them think you sick, or strange, or crazy, anything you like. But keep away from zem, or else they soon discover that 'Handsome Jack,' ze penniless adventurer, is quite a different person from ze accomplished and wealthy Monsieur Kenneth Traynor."

"We can't expect to keep the game up long," interrupted the big fellow moodily.

"We won't have to," replied his companion calmly. "Just enough time to squeeze ze orange dry—that's all——"

Handsome looked up quickly. Savagely he retorted:

"Of which juice you and Keralio want a goodly share, don't you?"

The valet's greenish eyes flashed.

"Of course I do, and, what's more, I mean to get it." Changing his free, careless tone to one tense with significance and menace he went on: "Don't be a fool, Monsieur Handsome. Who put you up to this snap, but me? Who knows what you did to monsieur out there on ze veldt, better than me? Dead men tell no tales, but live ones do. Don't forget that! If you want to keep clear of ze electric chair, you'll keep your mouth shut, and play fair."

The gambler listened, his mouth twitching nervously, his eyes glowing with sullen hatred.

"What do you and Keralio want? I gave you the diamonds—what more do you expect?"

The valet laughed scoffingly.

"You gave him ze diamonds. Why? You were d——d glad to be rid of zem. We can't do anything with zem now. We may have to wait months or years before we can venture to cut zem up and dispose of zem. Non, monsieur! If zey appeared on ze market now, ze news would be flashed immediatement to every corner of ze globe, and your career and mine would come to a quick end. Voila!"

"Don't forget Keralio!" said Handsome, with a sneer.

"Eh, bien? Has he not earned it, Signor Keralio? Is it not because of his courage and daring that you are here—ze master in this house? Who but Keralio would have had ze nerve to carry ze thing through?"

Handsome shrugged his shoulders. Cynically he said:

"Oh, I don't know. It seems to me that Keralio is safe under cover, while here I am, disporting myself in the limelight, with every eye turned on me. I guess I prefer Keralio's job to mine——"

The valet's eyes flashed vindictively as he retorted:

"Could your puny brain have conceived this scheme which will make us all rich? Keralio outlined ze whole plan to me directly he heard of your existence. On our reaching Cape Town, after finding you starving on ze veldt, I cabled him ze news. A few hours later he told me exactly what to do. He knew you would do it. How, I do not know. He is no ordinary man, Keralio. When I first saw you out zere, unkempt, in rags, starving, I could have dropped dead from surprise. It never occurred to me that you might be useful. But Keralio knew. He knows everything. He also knew that you would accept his leadership, that you would quickly get rid of monsieur, and secure ze diamonds. Was it not his idea that you set fire to ze ship? And who set fire to ze ship, s'il vous plait, when you refused? Who but your very humble servant. And a hard, dangerous job, it was, too—catch me ever wanting to do it again!"

"Not half so bad as mine. He put up a terrible fight before I threw him overboard."

"Who—monsieur?"

"Yes—he fought like a wildcat, and he was fast getting the best of me, when I managed to give him a rap on the head. That quieted him, and over he went." With an exclamation of disgust, he added: "It was a d——d nasty job. I'm sorry I ever went into it——"

"Sorry—you fool? Sapristi! Just think of this wonderful opportunity. You have ze keys to his vaults, you have control of his bank accounts." Lowering his voice, and, with a significant leer on his face, he added "and you have—his wife!"

Handsome grinned, and the valet went on:

"Precisement! Madame is cold and haughty, like all zese American women. It's not exactly my taste, but she's pretty and dainty, and——"

"Who are all these other people," interrupted the miner, "that man Steell——"

"Yes, that is so. You must know everyone. You must make a study of each, so as to avoid making bad breaks. Monsieur Steell is a lawyer. He's in love with madame's sister, Miss Ray. You've known him all your life, went to school with him, and all that sort of thing. Say 'yes' to everything he says. That's your cue at present. Talk as little as you can, and agree with everybody. The man you must talk with most is Monsieur Parker. He is president of the mining company. Happily he's rather shortsighted, so he won't notice anything. He's the man to whom you'll have to explain ze loss of ze diamonds. He'll be here to-night for dinner, so you'd better get your story ready."

"What can I say?"

"Say that in ze panic your belt worked loose, you had to dive into ze water. When you were dragged into ze lifeboat the belt was gone, do you understand?"

"Yes—but will they believe it?"

"They must believe it. There'll be an awful fuss, of course, but they'll get over it. No suspicion can attach to you."

"He's coming to-night—this man Parker?"

"Yes, to-night. He'll be here for dinner. He——"

Before the valet could complete the sentence there was a knock on the door and Helen outside called out:

"May I come in?"

Instantly the valet jumped up and assumed once more his deferential demeanor. The gambler hurriedly shut the bureau drawers and put on the blue spectacles.

The door opened and Helen entered.

Alert as the Frenchman was, he was not quick enough to quite conceal from the wife that his present obsequious manner had been suddenly assumed for her benefit directly she had entered the room. She had overheard voices, as she reached the landing, and the abrupt manner in which these sounds had ceased was not entirely natural. It had also seemed to her that the valet's tone had had a ring of familiarity about it which she had never known it to have before. Could it be possible that they were discussing matters which were to be kept from her? If so, her husband already had secrets in which not she but his valet shared. She recalled Keralio's cynical smile, as he had whispered: "Husbands only tell their wives half." Perhaps he had spoken the truth. Perhaps at this very moment she was degraded, insulted in her womanhood by a man who was secretly unloyal to her. The very thought went through her like a knife-thrust. All her life, every hour she had devoted to her husband. Even now she did not like to even harbor a shade of distrust, but his strange behavior since his return, this earnest conversation behind closed doors with a menial she despised and distrusted—all this could not but add to her anxiety. Calmly, she asked:

"Have you finished with Francois, dear? We need him downstairs."

The valet himself answered the question:

"Oui, madame. I was just coming."

Bowing politely, he turned on his heel, and, with a significant glance at Handsome, which his mistress did not notice, he left the room. Helen glanced at the bed, which was undisturbed. Surprised, she exclaimed:

"Why, I thought you were going to lie down!"

He shook his head. Shifting uneasily on his feet, and, without looking up, he answered:

"No—I can't sleep. I'm too nervous. I'll sleep to-night."

Advancing farther into the room she went up him and put her arm affectionately round him. Sympathetically she said:

"You'll feel better in a few days, dear. Just rest and take things easy. I won't hear of your going to the office for a week at least. All the business you and Mr. Parker have you can transact here. By the way, dear, you haven't even mentioned the most important thing of all—have you brought back the diamonds?"

Instead of replying at once to her question, he turned quickly and pulled down the blind.

"You don't mind, do you?" he said. "The light hurts my eyes."

"Of course not," she replied. Sitting down near him she went on: "Tell me—have you got the diamonds? How beautiful they must be! How I should love to see them!"

When finally he turned and confronted her she could see his face only indistinctly, as the drawing of the blind had left the room almost in darkness. His voice was strained and tense as he replied huskily:

"I have not got the diamonds!"

Helen almost started from her seat.

"You have not got them!" she exclaimed. "Where are they, Ken?"

"They are lost!"

"Lost?" she echoed, stupefied.

"Yes—lost."

"Oh, how terrible!" she faltered.

This, then, was the secret of his strange manner, his depression and nervousness. He had lost the diamonds. He had returned home to announce to the eagerly awaiting stockholders that over a million dollars' worth of property had suddenly been swept away. His feeling of personal responsibility must have been awful. No wonder he was not himself. It was enough to unnerve any man. Of course he was not to blame, but the world is so merciless. He would have to bear the censure, even when he was perfectly innocent. How she regretted that he had ever undertaken so heavy a responsibility. Timidly, not wishing to embarrass or annoy him, she said:

"How did it happen, dear?"

For a moment he made no answer, but just sat and stared at her. What little light entered between the shade and the window frame fell full on her face, lighting up the fine profile, the delicately chiseled mouth, throwing off golden glints from her artistically arranged hair. From her face his eyes wandered greedily down to her snow-white neck, her slender, graceful figure, her beautifully molded arms. Certainly, he mused to himself, his brother was an epicure in love. This woman was dainty enough to tempt a saint.

"How did it happen?" she asked again.

"It was in the first rush from the burning ship," he said hoarsely. "I was asleep when the fire broke out. It happened at two o'clock in the morning. The diamonds were in the belt which each night I unfastened and put under my pillow. It was more comfortable to do that than to wear it. When the first alarm came I forgot everything—except my own safety. I rushed pell-mell on deck. It was a nasty night. We didn't know where we were, or how grave the situation was. Outside the wind was howling furiously, the siren was blowing dismally, the panic-stricken passengers and sailors were fighting like wildcats. I lost my head along with the rest. I had reached the lifeboat when suddenly I remembered the belt. I felt at my waist. It was not there. I remembered I had left it under the pillow. I was horror-stricken. Great beads of perspiration broke from every pore. The people were fighting to get into the boat; I fought to get out and back to my stateroom. Suddenly someone knocked me on the head. I lost consciousness. When I came to we were miles away from the wreck, drifting on the ocean in an open boat, and the Abyssinia was nowhere to be seen."

Helen made an exclamation of sympathy.

"Poor soul—how terrible you must have felt! Thank God, you escaped with your life! We ought to feel grateful for that. Suppose I had been compelled to tell Mary that you were drowned. It would have killed her—you know that. Do you remember what you told her when you went away?"

He stared at her, not understanding.

"Told who?" he said cautiously.

"Mary."

"Oh, yes—Mary—of course—you mean your sister——"

Helen looked at him in amazement, then in alarm. Could the wreck have affected his mind? Laughingly she retorted:

"Ray? Of course not. How foolish you are, Kenneth. Don't you remember that your old nurse came to see you before you sailed?"

He nodded and coughed uneasily, moving restlessly about in his chair, as if to hide his embarrassment. These questions were decidedly unpleasant. Inwardly he wished Francois was present to help him out.

"Mary? Oh, yes, I remember—of course—of course——"

The look of anxiety in the young woman's face deepened. His memory failed him completely. Changing the subject she said quickly:

"There's something else I wish to mention to you, dear. It is about Signor Keralio——"

He started quickly to his feet. How came his brother's wife to know the name of the arch-plotter, the man who had sentenced her own husband to death? Was it possible that she knew more? Was she aware of his real identity? Was her present amiability of manner merely simulated? Was she waiting her time before calling in the police and exposing him as an impostor?

"Keralio?" he echoed hoarsely. "What about Keralio?" Making a step forward he exclaimed savagely: "Has he squealed? Is the game up? He's to blame, not I!"

Impulsively, instinctively, Helen sprang from her chair and fell back with a startled exclamation. Now thoroughly alarmed, more than ever convinced that the shipwreck had affected his brain, her one solicitude was to keep him quiet until she could get a doctor. Soothingly she said:

"Of course, dear; of course. We won't speak of Signor Keralio now. He's not worth discussing anyhow."

He watched her closely for a moment, as if trying to see if she were deceiving him, but her face was frank and serene. Suddenly, taking hold of her hand, which she abandoned willingly enough in his, he murmured:

"You mustn't mind what I say. I'll soon be all right. I'm a bit mixed up. My mind's been queer ever since that awful night."

"Perhaps you would prefer if we had no one to dinner. I could easily give some excuse and put them all off."

His first impulse was to promptly accept this suggestion, yet what was the good? If he did not meet them to-day he must do so to-morrow. It was best to get it over with. The quicker he got to know the people the easier it would be for him. If he seemed to avoid meeting them, it might only arouse suspicion. Shaking his head, he said:

"No, dear. That's all right. I'm glad they're coming. It will liven things up."

Helen's face brightened. It was the first cheerful remark he had made.

"That's what I think. You must forget what you have gone through. After all it's not so bad, but it might be a lot worse. Mr. Parker will feel badly about the stones, of course, because he had counted on making capital out of the advertising they would receive. But who knows? Perhaps it's all for the best. They may find other stones even more valuable."

A sudden knock at the door interrupted them.

"Come in," called out Helen.

The maid appeared.

"Mr. Parker is downstairs, m'm."

"Good gracious! Here already for dinner. What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock, m'm."

"All right. I'll be down immediately."

The girl went away and Helen turned to her companion.

"Now, hurry, dear, won't you? Dinner is ready. The guests are arriving. Dress quickly and come down."

He still held her hand.

"You're not angry with me?" he whispered.

"Why should I be angry?"

"Because of the diamonds."

"No, indeed—it was you I wanted, not the diamonds."

Drawing her to him, he kissed her. But her lips were cold. There was no response to his ardor. She could not herself have explained why. She felt no inclination to respond to his caresses, which at any other time she would have returned with warmth. With a slight shade of impatience she broke away.

"We have no time for that now, Kenneth. Our guests are waiting."

"That's right," he replied, with a smile that did not escape her. "We've no time now. But the night is still before us."

"Will you come soon?"

"Yes—I'll be right down."



CHAPTER XIV

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 the demi-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 plaire C'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 tete-a-tete 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 the Abyssinia he 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 his vis-a-vis.

"The diamonds are lost!" replied Parker hoarsely.

"The diamonds lost!"

"Yes—lost—he has returned without them. They went down in the Abyssinia. 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 Francois."

"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!"



CHAPTER XV

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. Her decollete gown 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 Francois 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 the veldt. 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 Francois 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, Francois 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.



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. Francois 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.



CHAPTER XVI

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 Francois 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. Francois 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.