CHAPTER X

Eagerly, breathlessly, Helen tore open the cablegram.

It was late Saturday afternoon and she had been with Ray and Mr. Steell

to see some paintings--a private view of a remarkable collection of old

masters. After having tea at the Plaza they had taken a brisk walk

through the Park, the lawyer insisting that the exercise would do them

good.

"It's just come, m'm," said the maid, holding out the thin envelope.

"Oh, it's from Kenneth!" exclaimed Ray excitedly, throwing down her

muff and running to look over her sister's shoulder.

For long, dreary weeks Helen had expected, and waited for, this

message, and now it had come, she was almost afraid to read it. There

were only a few words, cold and formal, the usual matter-of-fact,

businesslike phraseology of the so-much-a-word telegram:

CAPE TOWN, Thursday (delay in transmission). Sail to-day on the

_Abyssinia_. All's well. KEN.

"Is that all?" exclaimed Ray, disappointed.

Mr. Steell laughed.

"How much more do you expect at $2 a word?"

"Well, he might be a little more explicit," pouted Ray. "If I were his

wife, that wouldn't satisfy me."

Helen laughed lightly. Her eyes sparkling, her usually pale cheeks

filled with a ruddy color from her walk in the park, the lawyer thought

he had never seen her looking so pretty.

"It satisfies me," she said, her face all lit up with joyous

excitement. "All I want to know is that he is safe and on his way

home. The cablegram is dated Thursday. Then he's already on the water

three days! I wonder why we didn't hear before?"

Mr. Steell glanced over her shoulder.

"The dispatch has been delayed. Don't you see? It says, 'delayed in

transmission.'"

Helen turned round, her face radiant.

"When ought he to get here?"

The lawyer was silent for a moment as if calculating. Then, looking

up, he said:

"The _Abyssinia_ is not a very fast boat. I suppose she is the best he

could get. She's due at Southampton two weeks from to-day. A week

after that, he ought to be in New York--providing nothing happens."

Helen, who was still reading and re-reading the cablegram, looked up

quickly. With a note of alarm in her voice, she exclaimed:

"Providing nothing happens! What could happen?"

"Oh, nothing serious, of course. In these days of the wireless nothing

ever happens to steamers. One is safer traveling on the sea than on

land. I didn't mean anything serious, but merely that sometimes boats

are delayed by bad weather or by fog. That prevents them arriving on

schedule time."

Almost three months had slipped by since Kenneth's departure from New

York. To Helen it had seemed so many years. She had tried to be

contented and happy for Ray's sake. She entertained a good deal,

giving dinner and theater parties, keeping open house, playing

graciously the rôle of chatelaine in the absence of her lord, to all

outward appearances as gay and light-hearted as ever. Only Ray and her

immediate friends knew that the gayety was forced.

The poison had done its deadly work. The few words uttered by Signor

Keralio that afternoon shortly after her husband's departure had burnt

deep into her mind like letters of fire. Well she guessed the object

of the wily Italian in speaking as he did. It availed him nothing, and

she only despised him the more. It was cowardly, contemptible, and,

from such a source, absolutely unworthy of belief. Yet secretly it

worried her just the same. She had always considered Kenneth's life an

open book. She thought she knew his every action, his every thought.

The mere suggestion that her husband might have other interests, other

attachments of which she knew nothing took her so by surprise that she

was disarmed, powerless to answer. The innuendo that he might be

unfaithful had gone through her heart like a knife. Of course it was

quite ridiculous. He was not that kind of man. It was true he had

often gone away on trips that seemed unnecessary, and now she came to

think of it Kenneth's absences had of late been both frequent and

mysterious. Then, too, she had no idea of the extent of his operations

in Wall Street. She knew he bought and sold stocks sometimes. That is

only what every investor does. But it was incredible that he was

involved to the extent Keralio said he was. She knew he was ambitious

to acquire wealth, but that he would take such fearful risks and

jeopardize funds which, after all, belonged, not to him, but to the

stockholders--that was impossible. It was a horrible libel.

Still another cause for worry was the health of her little daughter,

Dorothy. Nothing ailed the child particularly, but she was not well.

The doctor said nothing was the matter, but a slight temperature

persisted, together with a cough which, naturally, alarmed the young

mother out of all proportion to the seriousness of the case. The

doctor also advised a change of air, so Helen at once made arrangements

to send her little daughter to Philadelphia, where, in Aunt Carrie's

beautiful house, she would have the best air and attention in the

world. Aunt Carrie came to New York to fetch the child, and, as she

stayed a couple of weeks sight-seeing and visiting friends that also

helped to keep Helen busy.

"I do wish that I didn't have such a worrying disposition"--she laughed

nervously after the lawyer had been at some pains to assure her about

the sea-worthiness of the _Abyssinia_. "Really, it makes me so

unhappy, but I simply can't help it. The other day it was baby who

made me terribly anxious; now it is Kenneth's home-coming. I must seem

very foolish to you all."

Ray quickly protested.

"You sweet thing--how could you look foolish? What an idea! Only

please don't worry, dear. I never do."

Mr. Steell nodded sympathetically.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Traynor. It shows you have a

fine, sensitive nature. It is only the grosser natures that are

callous and unaffected by the anxieties of life."

Taking the remarks to herself, Ray threw up her head indignantly.

"I deny the imputation that I'm gross."

The lawyer laughed.

"You are far too healthy to worry. Moreover, you have nothing to worry

about. If a man you loved were six thousand miles away----"

"Yes," interrupted Helen; "that's it. Only those who care for each

other can understand----"

"Oh, of course!" retorted her sister, flaring up. "We spinsters,

belonging, as we do, to the sisterhood of the Great Unloved, are quite

incompetent to express an intelligent opinion on that or on any other

matter. I grant that, but is Mr. Steell, a confirmed old bachelor, any

more competent than I?"

"Hardly an old bachelor!" interrupted Helen reprovingly.

"No--middle-aged bachelor!" corrected Ray saucily. "He never cared for

a woman in his life. He----"

"Who told you so?" inquired the lawyer quickly, with an amused twinkle

in his eye.

Ray colored visibly.

"Oh, I judge so," she stammered. "You never speak of that sort of

thing. One can only draw conclusions."

"The conclusions may be wrong," he replied gravely. "My life is a very

busy one. I have had no time to think of anything outside my immediate

work. Yet I am human. I sometimes yearn for the companionship of a

good woman. A pretty face attracts me, as it does other men, but, in

my opinion, any such attachment is too serious a matter to be treated

lightly. When a man feels deeply he keeps his own confidence until the

moment comes when he can unburden himself and say what is in his heart."

"I like that," said Helen, nodding her head approvingly.

Ray jumped up to conceal her embarrassment.

"Oh, how terribly serious you two are to-day!" she exclaimed. "I

declare I'll run away unless you cheer up a bit. Suppose I get some

tea?"

"Excellent idea!" laughed the lawyer.

Ray touched a bell, and went to clear a small side table, which she

drew up near where they were sitting.

"There!" she exclaimed, smiling roguishly at the lawyer. "Don't you

think I'm smart?"

"Of course we do." Lowering his voice he added significantly: "At

least I do."

Apparently the compliment fell on deaf ears, for, turning her head

away, she said quickly:

"Please don't be sarcastic."

More seriously, and in the same tone, that even Helen, who was only a

short distance away, could not hear, he said:

"I'm never sarcastic. I think you are all a woman should be."

"Do you mean that?"

"I do. I have thought it for a long time."

"Really?"

"Really."

The young girl colored with pleasure. For all her sophisticated and

independent manner she was still a child at heart. She had no thoughts

of marriage, but it flattered her to think that she had the power to

attract and interest this serious, brilliant man of the world. She

said nothing more, relapsing into a meditative silence as she busied

herself helping the maid to set out the tea table.

To Helen it was a source of keen satisfaction to notice the attention

which the brilliant young lawyer was paying her sister. She had long

recognized his sterling qualities. He was a man of whom any woman

might well be proud. He could not but make a good husband. Next to

Kenneth and her baby no one was dearer to her than Ray and, since their

mother died, she had felt a certain sense of responsibility. To see

her well and happily married was the one secret wish of her life.

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 boutonnière, 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.