Red Masquerade Part 31

What, then, if he were not her father?

What if he had only pretended to paternal rights in furtherance of some deep scheme of his?--perhaps thinking to use her as a p.a.w.n in that dark plot which he was forever brewing in his study (with canaille like Sturm for collaborators!) that mysterious "research work" that flavoured the atmosphere of the house with a miasmatic reek of intrigue, stealth, and fear--perhaps (more simply and terribly) designing in his own time and way to avenge himself upon the daughter for the admitted slights he had suffered at the hands of the mother, that poor dead woman whose fame he never ceased to blacken while still her memory was potent to kindle fires in those eyes otherwise so opaque, impenetrable, and lightless!

Now Sofia found herself unable to sit still; only through action of some sort could she hope to win any measure of ease for brain and nerves. A thought was shaping, claiming precedence over all others, the thought of flight; bred of the feeling that, as long as she remained in ignorance of the exact truth concerning their relations.h.i.+p, it was impossible for her to remain longer under Victor's roof, eating his bread and salt, schooling herself to suffer his endearments whose good faith she could not help challenging, who inspired in her only antipathy, fear, and distrust.

It seemed clear beyond dispute that she must leave his protection, this very night, before he could guess her mind and move to check her.

Sofia swung her feet down to the floor. One of her silken mules had fallen off. Semi-consciously she groped for it with stockinged toes. As the inanimate will, the mule eluded recapture with impish ease. But beneath her foot something rustled and crackled lightly. She bent over and picked it up: a square white envelope, sealed.

Switching on a lamp near by, she examined her find. It carried no address.

How it could have got there she could not imagine ... unless Chou Nu had dropped it by inadvertence, which seemed as far-fetched as to suppose she had left it there by design; for that would mean Chou Nu had been bribed to convey a surrept.i.tious note to her mistress; and Sofia knew that the Chinese girl was at once too loyal to her "second-uncle," and too much in awe of "Number One," to be corruptible.

None the less, there the envelope was; and n.o.body but Chou Nu had entered the room since Sofia had come straight from the study to it, late in the afternoon.

It was just possible, however--Sofia's eyes measured the distance--that a deft hand and a strong wrist might have slipped the envelope under the door and sent it skimming across the floor to the foot of the chaise-longue.

But n.o.body would have dared do that without a powerful motive for wis.h.i.+ng to communicate secretly with Sofia.

She tore the flap and withdrew a single sheet of notepaper penned in a hand she knew too well. Her heart leapt....

I implore you, of your charity, do not condemn me without a hearing because of anything you may have overheard me say. After you left us in the study I saw his eyes watching the door while we talked, and knew from his look that something to please him had happened behind my back. And in the temper he was in only one thing could possibly have pleased him.

I said what I said to him, dear, because I had to--or lose the right, dearer to me than life, to be near you, to serve and protect you. I lied to him because I loved you. But I have never lied to you about my love--and only once, through necessity, about anything else. Perhaps you can guess what that lie was, somehow I rather think you do; at least, I am sure, you are beginning to wonder if I told the truth--or knew it, then.

If this sound cryptic, I can only beg you to be patient and charitable until I find opportunity to clear away this one lie which stands between us--and which is, by comparison, almost immaterial, since all that matters is the one great truth in my life, that I love you beyond all telling.

R.K.

If questions trouble your mind, I beg you do not let him know it. Your only safety now lies in his continuing to believe that you are unsuspicious.

Above all, do your best to seem to fall in with his wishes, however strange or unreasonable they may seem. It will be only a few days more before I can claim you for my own, and laugh at his pretensions.

A curious love-letter; yet it was Sofia's first. If it made her thoughtful, it made her illogically happy as well. If it put the issue to her squarely, of loyalty to Prince Victor or loyalty to Karslake, she was unaware that she had any choice of courses. When Shaik Tsin thumped the panels of her door, she crushed the note into the bosom of her negligee before answering.

When one is of an age to love, it is never the parent who gets the benefit of a doubt.

XVI

THE CRYSTAL

Like some shy, sad shade summoned up by the malign genius of a haunted chamber, a slender shape of pallor in softly flowing draperies slipped through the silent door and, advancing a few reluctant steps into the soundless gloom, paused and in apprehensive diffidence awaited the welcome that was for a time withheld.

For minutes Victor gave no sign or stir; and in all the room nothing moved but ghostly whorls of smoke writhing slowly upward from a pungent censer of beaten gold.

The great lamp of bra.s.s was dark, and there was no other light than a solitary bulb, whose hooded rays were concentrated upon the crystal ball, so that the latter shone with a dead-white glare, somehow baleful, like an elfin moon deeply lost in a sea of sombre enchantment.

Bending forward in his chair, an elbow planted on the table, his forehead resting upon the tips of long, white fingers, Victor's gaze was steadfast to the crystal. Refracted light sculptured with curious shadows that saturnine face intent to immobility.

Too young, too inexperienced and sensitive to be insusceptible to the spell of the theatrical, the girl was conscious of a steady ebb of her new-found store of fort.i.tude, skepticism, and defiance, together with an equally steady inflow of timidity and uneasiness. That sinister figure at the table, absorbed in study of the inscrutable sphere--what did he see there, to hold his faculties in such deep eclipse? Adept in black arts of the Orient as he was said to be, what wizardry was he brewing with the aid of that traditional tool of the necromancer? What spectacle of divination was in those pellucid depths unfolding to his rapt vision? And what had this consultation of the occult to do with the man's mind concerning herself?

Sofia was shaken by a tremor of dread....

And as if her emotion were somehow communicated, arousing him to knowledge of her presence, Victor started, sat back, and with a sigh pa.s.sed a hand across his eyes. When the hand fell, his face wore its habitual look for Sofia, modified by a slightly apologetic and weary smile.

"My child!" he exclaimed in accents of contrite surprise, "have I kept you waiting long?"

"Only a few minutes. It doesn't matter."

But her voice seemed sadly small and thin in comparison with Victor's rotund and measured intonations.

"Forgive me." Victor rose, nodding to indicate the s.h.i.+ning crystal. "I have been consulting my familiar," he said with a light laugh. "You have heard of crystal-gazing? A fascinating art that languishes in undeserved neglect.

The ancients were more wise, they knew there was more in Heaven and Earth.... You are incredulous? But I a.s.sure you, I myself, though far from proficient, have caught strange glimpses of unborn events in the heart of that transparent enigma."

He took her hands and cuddled them in his own.

She quivered irrepressibly to his touch.

"But you are trembling!" he protested, solicitous, looking down into her face--"you are wan and sad, my dear. Tell me you are not ill."

"It is nothing," Sofia replied--again in that faint, stifled voice. She added in determined effort to subdue her trembling and turn their talk to essentials: "You sent for me--I am here."

"I am so sorry. If I had guessed ..." Enlightenment seemed to dawn all at once. "But surely it isn't because of that stupid business with Karslake?

Surely you didn't take him seriously?"

"How should I--?"

"It is too absurd. The poor fool misconstrued my instructions to make himself agreeable--I am so taken up with the gravest matters at present, I didn't want you to feel lonely or neglected--and, it appears, felt it inc.u.mbent upon him to flirt with you as a matter of duty. I am out of temper with him, but not unreasonable; I shan't dispense with his services altogether, without more provocation, but will find other work to keep him busy and out of your way. You need fear no more annoyance from that quarter."

"I was not annoyed," Sofia found heart to contend. "I--like him."

"Nonsense!" Victor's laugh was rich with derision. "Don't ask me to believe you were actually touched by the fellow's play-acting. You--my daughter--wasting emotion on a mere commoner! The thing is too ridiculous.

Oblige me by thinking no more about it. I have better things in store for you."

"Better than--love?" the girl questioned with grave eyes.

"When the time comes for that, you shall find a worthier parti than poor Karslake, well-meaning though he may be. Moreover, you heard--forgive me for reminding you--there was not an ounce of sincerity in all his philandering for you to hold in sentimental recollection. So--forget Karslake, please. It is a duty you owe your own pride and my dignity; it is, furthermore, my wish."

She bowed her head, that he might not see the reflection in her face of the glow that warmed her bosom, where Karslake's letter nestled. But Victor took the nod for the word of submission, and patted her shoulder with an indulgent hand, guiding her to a chair close by his.

"Sit down, my dear. I want to explain why I asked you to come to me at this late hour--never dreaming my message would find you so overwrought.... You quite see how needless it was to permit yourself to be upset by such a trifling matter, don't you?"

"Oh, quite," Sofia murmured, with gaze fixed on the interlacing fingers in her lap.

"That is sensible." Offering her shoulder one last accolade of approbation, Victor moved toward his own chair. "And now that you are here, we may as well have our little talk out," he continued, but broke off to stipulate: "If, that is, you are sure you feel up to it?"

"Yes," Sofia a.s.sented, but without moving.