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"Are you tired," he said at last. "Do you want to go to bed?"
"Not very," she answered. "I'm too excited to sleep. Hasn't it been an exciting day?"
He made no reply, pretending to be occupied at the desk, and she relapsed into a dream silence, glad of a few quiet, peaceful moments to be alone with her thoughts. How good it was to have him home again!
Now she could be at peace once more and enjoy life as she used to. She could go to the opera, to the theater. The days would not be so monotonous. She wondered why she was still unable to shake off the feeling of anxiety and apprehension which had haunted her ever since he went away. With a devoted husband safe at her side, what reason had she for feeling depressed? Yet, for some reason she was unable to explain, she was not able even now to throw off her melancholy and presentiment of danger.
There recurred to her mind what Signor Keralio had said, his veiled, ambiguous words of warning. Could it be true, was it possible that her husband had deceived her all these years and unsuspected by her, had led a double life of deceit and disloyalty? Certainly there was much that needed explanation. The loss of the diamonds did not directly concern her, although she felt that, too, was part of the mystery. But his strange aloofness of manner, his inexplicable loss of memory and nervousness, the frenzied outburst when she had mentioned Keralio's name that afternoon, the sudden craving for drink--was not all this to some extent, corroboration of what the fencing master has told her?
She thought she would question him, speak to him openly, frankly, as a loyal wife should the man she loves, and give him an opportunity to explain. Now was as good a time as ever. Looking up she said abruptly:
"Signor Keralio was here while you were away. I started telling you this afternoon, but you got so excited----"
Making a deprecatory gesture with his hand he said indifferently:
"That's all right. I was tired and nervous. I'm quieter now. What did Keralio have to say?"
"Nothing worth listening to. He never says anything but impertinences."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"You mustn't take him too seriously."
Hotly she retorted:
"He takes himself too seriously. If he only knew how repellent he is to a decent woman he would cease to annoy me."
He laughed.
"Oh, Keralio's not a bad sort--when you get to know him. Those foreigners think nothing of making love to a woman----"
"I don't want to know him," she retorted with spirit, "and what's more, I don't want him coming here. One evening he was so insulting that I had to show him the door. He had the impudence to come again. So I had my servant put him out. You won't invite him here again, will you?"
He was silent, while she sat watching him, amazed that he did not at once fiercely resent the insult done her in his absence. After a pause, he said awkwardly:
"I don't invite him. Keralio's the kind of a chap who invites himself."
"But can't you put him out?" she demanded with growing irritation.
"No--I can't," he answered doggedly.
"Why?" she demanded firmly.
"I can't--that's all!"
She looked at him wonderingly, and the color came and went in her face and neck. There was a note almost of contempt in her voice as she demanded:
"What is the hold this creature has on you? Is it something you are ashamed of?"
The blood surged to his face and the veins stood out on his temples like whipcord. Another instant and it had receded, leaving him ghastly pale.
"We have business interests in common, that's all," he said hastily and apologetically. "He has been very useful to me. I don't like him any more than you do, but in business one can't criticize too closely the manners or morals of one's a.s.sociates."
"No, but a man can prevent his a.s.sociates from annoying his wife."
He made no answer, but toyed nervously with a paper cutter. Determined to get at the truth, she went on:
"What business interests can you have together? Is it legitimate business or merely stock gambling?"
"What do you mean?"
Rising from the divan, she went toward him. Earnestly, she said:
"Kenneth, I've wanted to speak to you about this matter for a long time. During your absence I've heard rumors. Things have been insinuated. A hint has been dropped here, gossip has been overheard there--all to the effect that you are heavily involved in Wall Street.
Is it true?"
For a moment he was silent, at a loss what to answer. He could not imagine the reason for the questioning or where it might lead him, but instinct warned him that it was dangerous ground and that caution was necessary. Why hadn't Francois told him of his brother's Wall Street operations? It would never do to show himself entirely ignorant of them. If such rumors existed, there was probably some basis of them.
No doubt his brother had played the market and kept from his wife the extent of his losses.
"Is it true?" she repeated.
He shrugged his shoulders. Nonchalantly, he replied:
"Never believe all you hear!"
Her face lit up with pleasure.
"Really?" she exclaimed. "It isn't true?"
"Not a word of it. I have money invested in stocks and bonds, but anyone who accuses me of wild cat speculation is guilty of telling what I would very politely call a d----d lie!"
Rea.s.sured more by his ease and carelessness of manner than by his actual words of denial, the young wife gave an exclamation of delight.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "You've no idea how relieved I feel.
It was worrying me terribly to feel that you might be in difficulties and had not thought enough of me to take me into your confidence."
Looking at him appealingly she added:
"You will always confide in me, won't you Ken?"
"Sure I will, sweetheart----"
Trembling with the ardor he was trying to control he seized hold of her hand and drew her on to his knee. She offered no resistance, but pa.s.sively sat there, clasped against his broad shoulder, her face radiant with happiness at the load which his words had taken off her mind.
Putting his arm round her waist, he leaned forward as if to kiss her, but drawing quickly back she said:
"There's still something else I must ask you before my happiness is quite complete."
"What's that?" he demanded, impatient at these continual interruptions to his amorous advances.
Turning she looked steadily into his face, as if trying to read the truth or falsity of his answer. She could not see his eyes, veiled as they were by the gla.s.ses, but that sensitive mouth she knew so well, that determined chin, that high forehead crowned by the bushy brown hair with its solitary white lock--all these were as dear to her as they had always been. To think that he might have fondled some other woman as he was now fondling her was intolerable agony.