Part 1 (1/2)
The Mask.
by Arthur Hornblow.
CHAPTER I
”There! What did I tell you? The news is out!”
With a muttered exclamation of annoyance, Kenneth Traynor put down his coffee cup with a crash and, leaning over the table, pointed out to his wife a despatch from London, given prominence in the morning paper, which ran as follows:
Advices from Cape Town report the finding on a farm near Fontein, a hundred miles north of here, of a diamond which in size is only second to the famous Koh-i-noor. The stone, which is in the shape of an egg with the top cut off, weighs 1,649 carats, and was discovered after blasting at the foot of some rocks on land adjacent to the tract owned by the Americo-African Mining Company of New York. It is understood that the American Company is negotiating for the property; some say the transfer has already been made. If this is true, the finding of this colossal stone means a windfall for the Yankee stockholders.
The Traynor home, No. ---- Gramercy Park, was one of those dignified, old-fas.h.i.+oned residences that still remain in New York to remind our vulgar, ostentatious _nouveaux riches_ of the days when culture and refinement counted for something more than mere wealth. Overlooking the railed-in square with its green lawns, pretty winding paths and well-dressed children romping at play, it had a high stoop which opened into a wide hall, decorated with obsolete weapons and trophies of the hunt. On the right were rich tapestries, masking the folding doors of a s.p.a.cious drawing-room, richly decorated and furnished in Louis XIV.
period. Beyond this, to the rear of the house which had been built out to the extreme end of the lot, was the splendidly appointed dining-room with its magnificent fireplace of sculptured white marble, surmounted by a striking portrait in oils by Carolus Duran of Mrs. Traynor--a painting which had been one of the most successful pictures of the previous year's salon.
In a clinging, white silk negligee gown, the gossamer folds of which only partially veiled the outlines of a slender, graceful figure, Helen sat at the breakfast table opposite her husband, toying languidly with her knife and fork. It was nearly noon, long past the usual breakfast time, and by every known gastronomical law her appet.i.te should have been on keen edge. But this morning she left everything untasted.
Even the delicious wheat cakes, which none better than Mammy, their Southern cook, knew how to do to a point, did not tempt her. They had been out to dinner the night before. Her head ached; she was nervous and feverish. Always full of good spirits and laughter, ever the soul and life of the house, it was unusual to find her in this mood, and if her husband, now voraciously devouring the tempting array of ham and eggs spread before him, had not been so absorbed in the news of the day, he would have quickly noticed it, and guessed there was something amiss.
Certainly the appearance of the dining-room was enough to upset the nerves of anyone, especially a sensitive young woman who prided herself on her housekeeping. All around was chaos and confusion. The usually sedate, orderly dining-room was littered with trunks, grips, umbrellas and canes enveloped in rugs--all the confusion incidental to a hurried departure.
She took the newspaper, read the despatch and handed it back in silence.
”Isn't that the very deuce!” he went on peevishly. ”We've been trying our utmost to keep it secret. Unless we're quick, there'll be a rush of adventurers from all parts of the world before we can secure the options. Happily the despatch is vague. They don't know all the facts. If they did----” Lowering his voice and looking around cautiously to make sure that the butler had left the room and no one was listening, he continued: ”Besides you know what I am to bring back.
It couldn't be entrusted to anyone else. Just think--a stone worth nearly a million dollars! I hope no one will guess I have it in my possession. It must be brought safe to New York. That's why it's so important that I go at once. Even by catching the _Mauretania_ to-morrow, I can't reach Cape Town for a month, and every moment counts now.”
As Helen was still silent he glanced across the table at her for the first time. Her pallor and the drooping lines about her mouth told him something was wrong. Instantly concerned, he asked:
”What's the matter, dear?”
”I'm horribly nervous.”
”What about?”
”This trip of yours, of course.”
”You ought to be used to them by this time. This isn't the first time I've had to leave you since our marriage.”
”I didn't mind the other trips so much. When you went to Mexico and Alaska, it didn't seem so far away. But this journey to South Africa is different. You are running a terrible risk carrying that diamond.
I can't shake off a horrible feeling that something dreadful will happen.”
Surprised less at what she said than at her serious manner, he laid down the newspaper, and, jumping up, went over to her. His wife sat motionless, her lips trembling, her large eyes filled with tears. In spite of a palpable effort at self-control, it was evident that she was laboring under great nervous tension. Bending caressingly over her, he said anxiously:
”Why Helen, old girl! What's the matter?”
She made no answer. Her head fell on his breast. For a moment she could not speak. Her emotion seemed to choke her utterance, paralyze her speech. He insisted:
”What is it, dearie?” he demanded.
”I'm so nervous about your going, I'm so afraid about your having the diamond,” she sobbed. Suddenly, as if unable longer to control herself, she rose from the table and threw her arms around his neck.