CHAPTER V

Sunday evenings at Mrs. Traynor's were always enjoyable. No formal

invitations were issued. Friends just dropped in as they felt

inclined. There was good music, excellent tea _à la Russe_ and always

a number of interesting people.

To-night, the second Sunday since Kenneth went away, promised to be

duller than usual. Mr. Steell was there, of course, and he had brought

Dick Reynolds, a slightly built, shrewd looking young man with glasses,

who kept everybody amused with exciting stories of the underworld.

Yet, for all the animation, there was an atmosphere of gloom in the

air, an indefinable sense of depression which all felt and could not

explain. The lawyer, Dick, and Ray were in a corner carrying on an

animated discussion. Helen, her mind preoccupied, her thoughts

hundreds of miles away with the loved absent one, sat quietly at the

piano, running her fingers lightly over the keys, her thoughts many

leagues distant with the man who had carried her heart away with him.

Her face was pale, her expression grave. Why had Kenneth's going away

affected her like this? She had not had a moment's peace of mind since

his departure. She could not sleep. Horrible dreams and thoughts

haunted her all night. Some danger threatened, that she felt

instinctively. Something dreadful was going to happen. What it was,

she did not know. But it was something that threatened her happiness,

perhaps her life or Kenneth's----. At the mere thought a shiver ran

through her, and a convulsive sob rose in her throat, almost choking

her. Not until this moment had she fully realized how much she loved

him.

A sudden burst of laughter at the other end of the room aroused her

from her reverie. Looking up, she asked:

"What are you all so amused about?"

Ray smiled as she replied:

"We're arguing about dual personalities. Mr. Steell insists that there

is no such thing. Mr. Reynolds agrees with him. He is wrong of

course. I know of several well-authenticated cases, and the medical

records are there to back me up."

"Exactly what do you mean by dual personality?" demanded the lawyer.

Ray returned to the attack, while Helen, amused, rose from the piano

and went over to listen to the argument.

"I mean that a person we know well may suddenly cease being that person

and assume a personality entirely different."

Mr. Steell laughed derisively.

"Does the patient change her or his skin?"

"No, the change is wholly mental. Although in fact, the new mental

attitude does result in certain physical modifications. For instance,

a person who in his normal condition may be most punctilious and neat

in his dress is likely to become unkempt and slovenly in the new

character he unconsciously assumes."

"Have you ever encountered any such dual personalities?"

"Personally, no. But I have heard of them, and physicians often

encounter them in their practice."

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders as he turned to Helen.

"What do you think about it?" he asked, with an incredulous smile.

"About what?"

"These so-called dual personalities."

Before his hostess could answer, the drawing-room door opened and Mr.

Parker entered. Helen rose and went forward to greet the president of

the Americo-African Mining Company.

"Oh, Mr. Parker, how are you? I am so glad you came to see us."

The visitor advanced smiling into the room. With a salute to all

present, he asked cheerily:

"Well, what news of the wanderer?"

Helen sighed.

"None as yet."

The visitor chuckled as he crossed the room to shake hands with Ray and

Mr. Steell.

"Oh, well you must be patient. He'll soon be there, and then we shall

hear wonderful tales."

"What's the latest news from the seat of war--I mean the mines?" asked

Ray roguishly.

Mr. Parker smiled.

"Everything is going well, thank you."

"No new big finds?" demanded Mr. Steell.

The president laughed. Shaking his head, he said:

"We can't expect to make such finds every day. If we often picked up

stones of that size, we'd soon own all the wealth in the world."

"More likely," retorted Ray quickly, "that diamonds would become so

cheap that children would buy them for marbles."

Mr. Steell looked interested.

"What is the real market value of the two big gems you have already

picked up?"

The president looked at him for a moment in silence. Then, slowly, he

said:

"A very conservative estimate is $1,200,000 for both stones. They are

the purest white. There are larger stones in the world, but none of

finer quality."

"What do you expect to do with them?"

"First, they will be brought here and exhibited in their crude state.

You can easily realize the value to our company of such a gigantic

advertisement. Crowds will flock to see the wonderful crystals. The

newspapers all over the country will give them the widest publicity.

After everybody has seen them, we shall probably send them to Amsterdam

to be cut."

"Then, what will you do with them?"

"To tell you the truth, we have not made up our minds. Such very large

stones have really no commercial value. Take for instance the famous

Cullinan, the wonder of the modern world. That gem was so huge that it

was of no real value to the owners; so, unable to realize on it

themselves, they induced the Transvaal government to buy it and present

it to the King of England. We shall try to be a little more practical.

Our first duty is to our stockholders. We shall probably have the

stones cut up into a number of smaller stones, on which we shall be

able to realize a large sum. It's a rare stroke of good fortune for

us."

Helen had said nothing, but stood listening in silence. It was less of

the money involved in the adventure that she was thinking than of her

husband's safety.

"Suppose Kenneth loses the gems?" she faltered.

The old gentleman laughed.

"There's no fear of him losing them. He may have to fight for them,

but he'll never lose them I know him too well for that."

Helen's eyes opened wide.

"He may have to fight for them," she echoed. "Do you mean that?"

"No--no, of course not," said the president hastily. "No one will even

know he has them in his possession. We have kept the matter very

quiet."

Mr. Steell shrugged his shoulders. Drily he said:

"Oh, I guess Ken is big enough to take care of himself. It does look

as if it were tempting Providence to carry loose on one's person

valuables for so large an amount, but it's hardly likely that any of

the denizens of the underworld know of his departure. Still less that

he is carrying a million loose in his clothes. I don't see that

there's any reason to worry."

"That's precisely my opinion," said a musical voice immediately behind

them.

All started and looked up. Everyone had been so intent on the

conversation that they had not noticed a man who had entered the room.

He was a tall, dark-complexioned man of five and thirty with strong,

stern features, which, in repose, were actually forbidding. The mouth,

partly concealed by a long, bristling moustache, was firm, suggesting

relentless will power, and his eyes, restless, keen and searching, had

taken in every person there long before anyone was aware of his

presence. He was fashionably, even elegantly dressed, and on his left

hand he wore a solitaire of uncommon size and luster. His hair,

carefully curled, scented and parted, was extraordinarily dark,

contrasting sharply with the unusual pallor of his face. He spoke low

and musically, with a slight foreign accent.

Helen started involuntarily on hearing the sound of his voice, and a

cloud passed momentarily over her face. It lasted only a moment. She

was too tactful, too much the woman of the world not to greet with at

least apparent cordiality any visitor under her roof, no matter how

unwelcome he might really be. Turning quickly, she advanced and held

out her hand.

"How do you do, Signor Keralio? How you startled us! I did not hear

you come in."

The newcomer's black eyes flashed, and his thin lips parted in a smile

as he bent low and ceremoniously kissed his hostess' hand in

continental fashion. Fond, as are most men of the Latin race, of

making extravagant compliments, he murmured softly:

"Your tiny ears, Madam, were not intended to distinguish such gross

sounds as ordinary mortal's footsteps. Dainty and delicately fashioned

as the shells strewn along the beach, they were modeled only to listen

to the gods or re-echo the music of the murmuring sea." Apologetically

he added:

"But I'm afraid I intrude. Possibly you discuss family affairs----"

A look of annoyance crossed Helen's face. Quickly withdrawing her

hand, she said:

"Oh, not at all. We were only talking about my husband. You know he

sailed for South Africa two weeks ago. This is Mr. Steell, Signor

Keralio. I think you know my sister. Mr. Parker--Signor Keralio."

The old gentleman nodded affably, and, putting on his glass,

scrutinized the newcomer narrowly. The president of the

Americo-African Mining Company had always made it a point not to

neglect any chance introduction. He had no idea who the visitor was,

but he looked prosperous. Possibly with a little careful manipulation,

he might be induced to invest in some A. A. M. stock. Holding out his

hand, he said affably:

"Signor Keralio---- Let me see. Where have I heard that name before?"

Ray came to the rescue.

"Signor Keralio is the well-known fencing master."

A look of disappointment came over the president's face. Only a

fencing master? Ugh! He was hardly worth bothering about. He

wondered whether the business were profitable and if all fencing

masters dressed like millionaires and had such polished manners. Helen

explained:

"Signor Keralio is a friend of my husband. Kenneth enjoys fencing, and

Signor Keralio is his teacher."

"Oh, yes, to be sure," smiled Mr. Parker. "Capital idea--splendid

exercise. I'd try it myself, only I'm afraid I'd do my adversary some

injury."

The Italian gave a low chuckle. With veiled irony, he said:

"Monsieur is right. He no doubt has a good eye, a supple wrist. An

encounter might be very unpleasant for his opponent."

Ray, unable to control her mirth, hastily beat a retreat, followed more

leisurely by Mr. Steell, and taking refuge at the far end of the room

sat down at the piano, and began to play softly a Chopin nocturne.

Waving the newcomer to a seat, Mr. Parker offered him a cigar, which

the fencing master, with a courteous bow, asked his hostess' permission

to smoke.

"By all means," she said, "and with your permission I'll leave you

gentlemen alone a few moments. I have a letter to finish. It must go

tonight to catch the boat."

"It's to your husband, I wager," said Keralio, with a sardonic smile.

"An easy guess," she retorted. "I write him every day."

The fencing master gave a sigh as he exclaimed:

"Ah, such devotion is truly beautiful! Why have I never known such

love as that?"

"Perhaps you never deserved it!" she retorted.

Mr. Parker chuckled.

"That's what we in the American vernacular call 'a knock-out.'"

Helen laughed lightly. There was a swish of silken petticoats, and she

disappeared in an alcove, where she sat down at a desk. Keralio looked

after her with undisguised admiration and puffed his cigar in silence

for a few moments. Then he said:

"It's a big job which you and Traynor are doing out there in South

Africa. I see by the papers that you've already made some valuable

finds."

He appeared unconcerned, and looked narrowly at his _vis à vis_ to see

what effect his words had on him, possibly to draw him out. But Mr.

Parker was too old a bird to be caught napping, even by a clever

adventurer. Instantly on his guard, he said carelessly:

"The outlook is very bright, very promising indeed. Our stockholders

are quite satisfied, and it is likely that we shall make good money.

But of course everything is in the experimental stage as yet."

"But you have found diamonds--big diamonds?"

"Oh, yes," replied the president with affected carelessness; "we have

picked up a few stones. As I told you, the prospects are very

promising."

"But haven't you recently made some extraordinary finds?"

Mr. Parker shook his head.

"No--nothing worth mentioning.'"

Keralio smiled skeptically.

"Isn't your memory somewhat at fault, cher monsieur? Surely you

haven't forgotten the two stones of enormous size just picked up--finds

of sensational importance. The newspapers have been full of the story."

Mr. Parker made a deprecatory gesture.

"Pshaw! My dear sir, you ought to know what newspaper talk is worth!

No yarn is too fantastic to print so long as it sells their papers. We

found two stones of fair size, it is true, but to say that they are of

priceless value is a gross exaggeration."

The Italian eyed his companion closely. Significantly he said:

"They're valuable enough, however, to justify you in refusing to trust

their shipment to ordinary channels and in going to the expense of

sending to South Africa one of your officers to whom is confided the

task of bringing the gems home."

"How did you know that?" demanded Mr. Parker, surprised.

"There is very little I do not know," smiled Keralio ironically, as he

blew a ring of cigar smoke up to the ceiling.

His curiosity aroused, the president of the A. A. M. Co. was about to

question his companion farther, but at that moment Helen rose from the

desk and came toward them.

"I'm not in the humor to write now," she said. "I'd rather talk."

Sitting in a chair near them, she added quickly: "Won't you let me get

you some tea?"

Both men shook their heads. Mr. Parker rose. With a mischievous

twinkle in his eye, he said:

"I'll go over to the others and take a hand at bridge. I want to make

some money, Signor--I'll leave you to entertain Mrs. Traynor."

With a courteous salutation to his hostess, a graceful act of

chivalrous politeness of which he was a past master, Mr. Parker crossed

the room in the direction of the card table.