The Mask Part 25

"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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 ma.s.sive 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 s.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sociate 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 s.h.i.+p 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 circ.u.mstances. 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 pa.s.sing 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?"