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-fashioned 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 spacious 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 negligée 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 appetite 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.

Passionately she cried: "Oh, Kenneth, don't go! Don't go! I feel that

something will happen."

He laughed carelessly as he fondled her. More seriously he replied:

"I hope something does happen. That's what I'm going out there for.

Why, Helen dear, I don't think you quite realize what this trip means

to us. If the deal goes through, and we get full control of all that

property, we'll all be as rich as Croesus. Just think, dear, 300,000

square miles of the most wonderful diamond producing country. In ten

days they found 400 beautifully clear stones, some of them weighing

over a hundred carats. If the reports are true, we shall have a group

of mines as valuable as the famous De Beers group. Do you know what

they have produced to date in actual money?"

The young woman shook her head. Usually she was glad enough to listen

to her husband's business plans, but to-day they wearied her. Her mind

was too much preoccupied with something that concerned her far more.

The idea of this coming separation, the knowledge that he was running a

risk, had left her singularly depressed. She had tried to remain calm

and control her emotion, but the effort was beyond her. The prospect

of this separation, with its vague, undefined forebodings of disaster,

was simply intolerable. The tears she was unable to restrain rolled

silently down her cheeks.

He looked at her in surprise. Never had he seen her in this mood.

Approaching her more closely, he said kindly:

"That can't be the only reason, dear, what's the matter?"

She hesitated a moment before she answered:

"I'm very nervous to-day. I was dreadfully irritated last night at the

dinner. I wish I hadn't gone----"

"Who irritated you?"

"That man Signor Keralio. I simply can't tolerate the man. How I hate

him!"

"Why--what did he do?"

"He did nothing. He wouldn't dare--there. But I wouldn't care to be

alone with him. His eyes were enough. He imagines he is irresistible,

and that every woman is immoral. That is the kind of man he is. He

annoyed me all evening. There was no getting away from him."

Kenneth laughed and went back to finish his breakfast, quite

indifferent to what he had just heard. He knew his wife too well to be

afraid of any number of Signor Keralios. Humming a tune, he said

carelessly:

"Why didn't you call me?"

"What? Create a scandal? That would only make me ridiculous. He

wouldn't care. I can't bear the sight of the man, yet I have to be

polite to him."

Kenneth nodded.

"Yes--I have reasons for not caring to quarrel with Keralio just now."

She looked up quickly.

"Why? What is that man to you? He's your fencing master, I know, but

that's no reason for making a friend of him. I never understood why

you associated with him. He is so different to you."

Her husband smiled. He adored his wife and admired the sex in general,

but, like most men, he had never had much respect for women's judgment.

Women were made to be loved; not to discuss business with. Indulgently

he said:

"My dear, you don't understand. I have important financial relations

with Keralio. I don't care for him myself, but one can't choose one's

business associates. He and I are interested in a silver mine in

Mexico. Thanks to him, I got in on the ground floor. One of these

days the investment will bring me a big return."

His wife shrugged her shoulders. Incredulously she retorted:

"Not if Keralio has anything to do with it. I don't trust him. He has

deceit and evil written all over his face."

Amused at her petulance, Kenneth jumped up impulsively and took his

wife in his arms.

Abandoning herself willingly to his embrace, for a moment her head fell

back on his broad shoulder, and she smiled up at him. From her soft,

yielding form arose that subtle, familiar perfume, the intoxicating,

vague, indefinable aroma of the well groomed woman that never fails to

set a man's blood on fire. Bending low until his mouth touched hers,

he kissed her until her face glowed under the ardor of his amative

caress. But to-day she was not in the mood to respond.

"Don't--don't!" she panted, striving to free herself.

"Admit that you're foolish or I'll do it again," he laughed.

"Perhaps I am. It's selfish of me to make it harder for you to go

away."

The butler reëntered the room with the finger bowls, and she quickly

disengaged herself. To hide her confusion, she turned to the servant:

"Did my sister go out, Robert?"

"Yes, m'm," replied the man respectfully. "Miss Ray told me to tell

you in case you asked that she had gone shopping and would be back

soon."

"Where's Miss Dorothy?"

"The fraulein took her to the park, m'm."

"When fraulein comes in, tell her to bring Dorothy upstairs."

"Very well, m'm."

The butler went out and Helen turned to her husband. Anxiously she

said:

"I've been a little worried about Dorothy lately. She's not looking

well. I think she needs the country."

Kenneth looked up quickly. Next to his wife he loved his flaxen haired

little girl better than anything in the world. There was a worried

look on his face as he asked:

"What does the doctor say?"

"Oh, it's nothing to be alarmed at. Only she's growing fast, and needs

all the air possible. I'm thinking of sending her to Aunt Carrie for a

while. You know she has a beautiful place in the suburbs of

Philadelphia. She would be out in the air all the time."

"Yes--that's a good idea. Send her there by all means. Write your

aunt to-night."

Helen glanced at the clock. There wasn't any time to lose. Turning to

her husband she said quickly:

"You had better come upstairs and finish your packing, dear. Your

trunks aren't nearly ready and the expressman was ordered for three."

Recalled thus abruptly to the day's duties, he turned docily and

followed her upstairs.

Beautiful as was the Traynor home below, it was in the library in the

second floor that Helen always felt happiest and most at ease. Up the

broad, thickly carpeted stairs and turning to the right as the landing

was reached, they entered the library, a room of truly noble

proportions extending the entire width of the house and with deep

recessed windows and low seats, overlooking the park. The furnishings,

though simple, were rich and luxurious. The woodwork was of black

Flemish oak, the ceiling beamed with a dull red background. The

upholstery was a rich red plush throughout, with deep seated armchairs,

and sofas built close to the wall wherever space permitted. In the

corners, numerous electric reading lamps could be turned on or off at

pleasure, constituting ideal nooks for reading. The furniture, apart

from the red plush armchairs, was of black Flemish oak to match the

woodwork, with an immense richly carved black oak dark table in the

center of the room, lighted by an electrolier of similar size and

design to the one in the dining-room.

It was in this room with its atmosphere of books so conducive to peace

and introspection that Helen loved to spend her spare time. The walls

were literally lined with tomes, dealing with every branch of human

knowledge--religion, science, philosophy, literature. Here when alone

she enjoyed many an intellectual treat, browsing among the world's

treasures of the mind. Even when her sister had a few intimates to

tea, or when friends dropped in in the evening, they always preferred

being in the library to anywhere else.

Only second to the library in the affection of its young mistress was

her bed chamber with which it was connected by a small boudoir.

Furnished in Louis XVI. style, it was a beautiful room, decorated in

the most dainty and delicate of tones. The bed, copied after Marie

Antoinette's couch in the Little Trianon was in sculptured Circassian

walnut, upholstered in dull pink brocade, the broad canopy overhead

being upheld by two flying cupids. The handsome dressing table with

three mirrors and chairs were of the same wood and period. On the

floor was a thick carpet especially woven to match the other

furnishings.

To-day, littered as it was with trunks and clothes, the room lacked its

usual sedateness and dignity, but Helen did not mind. She would have

preferred it to look far worse if only her loved one were not going

away. His clothes lay scattered all over the floor. There was still

much to be done.

Kenneth himself realized it as he ruefully surveyed the scene. Hurry

he must. A director's meeting to-night, the steamer sailing to-morrow

and here he was not nearly ready. Helen could see no reason why

François should not do the packing, but he insisted on doing it

himself, and was soon deep in the work of filling the trunks that stood

around.

While he worked, almost unconscious of her presence, she sat

disconsolately on a trunk and watched him, and from time to time, as if

ashamed to let him see her weakness, she turned her head aside to

furtively wipe away a tear. No doubt her misgivings were foolish.

Husbands left their wives on business trips every day. Sensible women

were not so silly as to cry over it. It was to be only temporary, she

knew that, yet her heart misgave her. She had tried to be resigned to

this South African journey, to accept it without protest, but her

feelings were too much for her. When she married Kenneth Traynor, the

energetic, prosperous Wall Street promoter, everybody knew that it was

a love match. Standing six feet two in his stockings, muscular,

sinewy, without an ounce of superfluous fat, Kenneth Traynor looked as

though he could give a good account of himself no matter in what tight

place he found himself. His clean cut features and strong chin denoted

strength of character, his deep set blue eyes, a blue of a shade so

light rarely seen except in the peasants of Normandy, beamed with

frankness and honesty, a kindly smile hovered about his smooth, firm

mouth. What at once attracted attention was his hair which was dark

and unusually thick and bushy and a peculiar characteristic was a

solitary white lock in the center of his forehead. Such a phenomenon

of the capillary glands was not uncommon, but as a rule, the white hair

is on the side of or at the back of the head. In Kenneth's case, it

was the very center of the forehead and imparted to his face an

individuality quite its own.

When on leaving college, he had been forced, like other young men, to

choose a career, he was unable to decide what he wanted to do. Doctor,

lawyer, architect, author--none of these suited his nervous, restless

temperament. He craved a more exciting life, and at one time thought

seriously of entering the army with the hope of seeing active service

in the Philippines. But Aguinaldo's surrender put a quietus on this

project, and he entered a broker's office in Wall Street Here, in the

maelstrom of frenzied finance, his pent up energies found an outlet.

He went into the stock gambling game with the feverish energy of a born

gambler. Months of excitement followed, luck being usually with him.

He was successful. He doubled and tripled his capital, after which he

had good sense enough to stop, withdrawing from the fray before the

tide turned. But he could not give up the life entirely. The business

of stock promotion was the next best substitute. It was about that

time he met the woman he married.

It had been an ideal union in every way, but even Helen herself could

not have guessed that day now three years ago when she left the church

a bride, how completely, how entirely this man whose sterling

qualities, good nature and charm of manner had won her heart, would

take complete possession of her, body and soul. Instead of the romance

flickering out after the first sudden blaze of fierce passion, as it

usually does after the first few months of married life, on her side,

at least, the flame had gathered in strength until now it was the one

compelling, all absorbing interest in her life.

She recalled how they had first met. It was in the Winter time. She

was skating in Central Park. A thaw had set in and the ice was

dangerous. Suddenly there was an ominous crack, and the crowd scurried

out of harm's way, all but one child, a little nine year old girl who,

in her eagerness to escape, stumbled and fell. The next instant she

was in the water, disappearing under the ice. Just at that moment, a

tall athletic figure dashed swiftly to the hole and, stooping quickly,

caught the child by the dress. Then, by a feat of almost superhuman

strength which awed the crowd into silence, he drew the little victim

out to safety, not much the worse for her experience.

Spellbound, hardly able to breathe from sheer excitement, Helen had

watched the work of rescue. When the stranger, tall, muscular,

handsome, passed her, carrying tenderly his burden, a human life saved

from a watery grave, she could not help murmuring:

"Oh, how brave of you!"

"Nonsense," he retorted abruptly. "It's nothing to make a fuss about."

She did not see him again for six months, and had almost forgotten the

incident when one night at the opera during a performance of

"Tannhauser," a man, tall, square shouldered, entered the box where she

was and was presented to her.

"Helen--Mr. Traynor."

It was her hero.

He had remained her hero ever since.

She remembered the afternoon when he had asked her to be his wife.

They were alone in the library which overlooked the Park with its

beautiful vista of green foliage, its glimpse of rolling lawns, and

shimmering lakes. They were standing side by side, gazing idly out of

the window, conversing quietly on all kinds of topics interesting to

them both. She was enjoying his vigorous, masculine point of view and

feeling strangely happy in his company.

"When should a man marry?" he asked all at once.

Startled for a moment at the abruptness of the question which nothing

in their previous conversation had led up to, she answered gravely:

"When he's tired of being alone and when he feels he has met the woman

with whom he can be happy, the kind of woman who will be a real

helpmate and aid him to achieve his ambitions."

"How can he know that the woman to whom he is attracted will have this

influence in his life? How can he distinguish real gold from the

imitation which merely glitters?"

"Only by his instinct. That never errs."

"And when in your opinion, should a woman marry?"

"When she meets the man to whom she feels she can give herself without

forfeiting her self-respect."

He nodded approvingly, and looked at her for a few moments without

speaking. Outside it was growing dark, for which she was glad, for her

face burned under the earnestness of his gaze. Finally he said:

"You are right. But yours is a point of view the modern girl seldom

takes. First she discusses ways and means. Love, self respect--these

she considers quite negligible."

She protested.

"Not all girls--only some girls. They are foolish virgins who leave

their lamps untrimmed. They sow folly to-day only to reap unhappiness

to-morrow."

He said nothing and for a few moments they both stood there in the

increasing darkness. Suddenly, without a moment's warning, his voice

broken by emotion, he turned to her and said:

"I am tired of being alone. I have met the woman with whom I could be

happy, the woman who can help me to do big things. Helen, I want you

to be my wife."

She made no answer. She felt herself growing pale. A strange tremor

passed through her entire body.

He came closer and took her unresisting hand.

"Helen," he whispered, "I want you for my wife."

Still no reply, but her small delicate hand remained clasped in his

big, strong one, and gradually he drew her toward him until she was so

close in his embrace that he could feel her panting breath on his cheek.

A strange thrill passed through him as he came in contact with her

soft, yielding body. She never wore corsets, preferring the clinging

Grecian style of gowns that showed graceful lines and left the figure

free, and her form, slender yet firm and delicately chiseled like that

of some sculptured goddess, had none of that voluptuous grossness which

mars the symmetry of many women, otherwise beautiful.

As she nestled there, pale and trembling in his strong arms, he did not

dare move, for fear that he might unwittingly injure a being so frail

and delicate. All his life Kenneth had lived a clean life. He had not

led the riotous, licentious kind of existence which some men of his

means and opportunities think necessary to their comfort. He had never

been a libertine. He had respected women; indeed, had rather avoided

them.

But if a man, busily engaged in the battle of life, his mind always

engrossed in serious affairs, succeeds in keeping natural instincts

under control there comes a day when nature asserts herself, when his

manhood demands the satisfaction of legitimate cravings. This bachelor

who had lived a secluded, hermit-like kind of existence till he was

thirty was suddenly and violently awakened to the fact that he was made

of flesh and blood as are other men. This slim girl with her sweet

ways, her pretty face, her ready wit, had completely vanquished him,

and not alone did she satisfy him mentally, she also attracted him

physically.

He realized it now as he held her tight against his breast. Her head

had fallen on his shoulder. Her face with its pale, delicate profile

was turned toward him, the eyes half closed. The mouth, arched like

Cupid's bow and partly open, disclosing the white, moistened teeth, and

red and luscious like some rare exotic fruit, was tempting enough to

madden a saint. Kenneth was only human. Unable to resist, he lowered

his head until his mouth grazed hers and then with a wild, almost

savage exclamation of joy, the exultant cry of lust awakened and

gratified, his lips met hers and lingered.

To Helen it seemed as though she was in a dream of untold ecstasy.

Always a shrinking, modest girl, especially in the company of the

opposite sex, in any calmer moment she would have been shocked beyond

expression at this momentary abandonment she permitted herself. As she

lay in this man's arms and felt his warm kisses on her lips, there came

over her a strange sensation she had never known before. She grew

dizzy and for a moment thought she would faint. All at once he

released her. Almost apologetically, he murmured:

"Forgive me--I lost control over myself--I want you Helen--I want you

for my wife. Will you marry me?"

She drew away and turned away her head, so he might not see her burning

cheeks.

He persisted.

"Will you marry me?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. Then, very simply, she

answered:

"Yes, Kenneth."

That was three years ago.