CHAPTER XIX
"There--take a little water--you're much better now!" said the nurse,soothingly.
The patient swallowed greedily the cooling drink handed to him, and,tired even by that small effort, fell back on his pillows exhausted.
"Where am I?" he inquired of the comely young woman, who in neatservice uniform, hovered about the bed.
"You're in St. Mary's Hospital."
"In New York?" he queried.
"No--San Francisco----"
He was too weak to question further, but his hollow blue eyes followedher as she moved here and there, attending skilfully and swiftly to theduties of the sick room. Presently he made another venture:
"Have I been ill long?"
"Yes--very long."
"What's the matter?"
"Concussion of the brain, pneumonia and shock. You are much betternow, but you mustn't talk so much or you may have a relapse."
He asked no more, but passed his hand over his brow in a bewilderedsort of way. Presently, he began again:
"Does my wife come to see me?"
The nurse stopped in her work and looked at him curiously. Insurprise, she exclaimed:
"Your wife! Have you a wife?"
It was his turn now to be surprised. In somewhat peevish tone he said:
"Of course I've a wife--everyone knows that."
"What's her name?"
"Helen--Helen Traynor." Enthusiastically, he added: "Oh, you'd justlove my wife if you only knew her. She's the sweetest, the mostunselfish----"
The nurse looked at him curiously.
"So your name is Traynor, is it? We've tried to find out for a longtime. But there were no marks on your clothes when you were picked up.We did not know who you were and so have not been able to communicatewith any of your friends. We guessed you were a man of social positionby your hands and teeth, and we knew your name began with a T becauseof the monogram on the signet ring on your finger."
"Pick me up?" he echoed. "Where did they pick me up? What hashappened? Was it an accident?"
"You were found unconscious, drifting in the ocean, clinging to a spar,and were brought here by a sailing vessel. You had a fracture of theskull and you were half drowned. It is supposed that you were one ofthe passengers of the _Abyssinia_, which took fire and went down twodays after leaving Cape Town, but as several passengers and officerswhose bodies were never found also had names beginning with T, it wasimpossible to identify you."
As he listened, the vacant, stupid expression on his face graduallygave place to a more alert, intelligent look. Indistinctly, vaguely,he recalled things that had happened. Slowly his brain cells began towork.
He remembered cabling to Helen from Cape Town telling her of hissailing on the _Abyssinia_. He recalled the incidents of the first dayat sea. The weather was beautiful. Everything pointed to a goodvoyage. Who was traveling with him? He could not remember. Oh, yes,now he knew. Francois, his valet, and that other queer fellow he hadpicked up at the diamond mines--his twin brother. Yes, it all cameback to him now.
Why had he gone to the diamond mines? Yes, now he knew--to take backto New York the two big stones found on the Company's land. He hadthem safe in a belt he wore round his waist next to his skin. Thesecond night out he went to bed about midnight and was fast asleep whensuddenly he heard shouts of "Fire! Fire!" Jumping up and looking outof his cabin he saw stewards and passengers running excitedly about.There was a reddish glare and a suffocating smell of smoke. Quickly hebuckled on the belt with the diamonds, and, slipping on his trousers,went out. The electric lights had gone out. The ship was in completedarkness. From all sides came shouts of men and screams of frightenedwomen. It was a scene of utter demoralization and horror. He wasgroping his way along the narrow passage, when, suddenly, out of thegloom a man sprang upon him, and, taken entirely by surprise, he wasborne to the deck before he had time to defend himself. He could notsee the man's face and thought it was one of the passengers or sailorswho had gone mad, but when he felt a tug at his belt where the diamondswere, he knew he had to do with a thief. He fought back with all hisstrength, but he was unarmed, while the stranger had a black jack whichhe used unmercifully, raining fearful blows on his head. The strugglewas too unequal to last. Weak from loss of blood, he relaxed his grip,and the thief, dealing one fearful parting blow, tore away the belt anddisappeared. His life blood was flowing away, he felt sick and dizzy,but just as the thief turned to run he managed to get a glimpse of hisface. Now he remembered that face--it was the face of his twinbrother--the man he had rescued from starvation on the _veldt_.
Yes, it all came back to him now, like a horrible nightmare. What hadhappened since then? How could he tell, since all this time his mindhad been a blank? Helen, no doubt, believed him dead. Mr. Parker andall the others thought he had gone down with the ship. But what of hisvalet, Francois, and his cowardly, murderous brother--were they saved?If so, the thief had the diamonds, and had probably disposed of them bythis time. Perhaps there might still be time to capture the would-beassassin and save the gems for the Americo-African Company. Brother orno brother, he would have no more pity on the unnatural, miserablecutthroat. The first step was to let his friends know where he was.He must telegraph at once to Helen.
Yet, on second thought, it would not be wise to do that. If Helenreally believed him dead and was now mourning his loss, it might bealmost a fatal shock if suddenly she were to receive a telegram sayinghe was alive. Such shocks have been known to kill people. A betterplan would be to get well as soon as possible, leave the hospital, andgo to New York. Once there, he could go quietly to his office andlearn how matters were.
The days passed, the convalescent making speedy progress towardrecovery, and in a few weeks more he was able to leave the hospital.Making himself known quietly to a San Francisco business acquaintance,he was quickly supplied with funds and immediately he turned his facehomeward.
The long, overland journey was tedious and exhausting, especially inhis present weakened condition, and even those who knew him well wouldhardly have recognized in the pale emaciated looking stranger with illfitting clothes and untrimmed full growth of beard who emerged from thetrain at the Grand Central Station, the carefully dressed, well groomedKenneth Traynor who, only a few months before, had sailed away from NewYork on the _Mauretania_.
The noise and turmoil of the big metropolis, in striking contrast tothe quiet and seclusion of the sick room in which he had lived for somany weeks, astonished him. The crowds of suburbanites rushingfrantically for trains, elbowing and pushing in their anxiety to gethome, the strident hoarse cries of newsboys, the warning shouts ofwagon drivers as they drove recklessly here and there at murderousspeed, the blowing of auto horns, the ceaseless hum and roar of the bigcity's heavy traffic--all this bewildered and dazed him. At first hedid not remember just in what direction to turn, whether he lived inthe East or West side, uptown or down. But as he got more accustomedto his surroundings, it all came back to him. How stupid--of course hehad to go downtown to 20th Street. Once more he was himself again.Hailing a taxi, he started for Gramercy Park.
Conflicting emotions stirred his breast as he drew near his home. Whatjoy it would be to clasp Helen once more in his arms. How delightedshe would be to see him! Then he was filled with anxiety, a suddenfeeling of dread came over him. Suppose some misfortune, some calamityhad happened during his absence! Helen might have met with someaccident. Baby might have been ill. The worst might have happened.He would never have heard. Perhaps he was only going home to find hishappiness wrecked forever.
The driver made his way with difficulty down Fifth Avenue, threadinghis way in and out the entanglement of carriages and automobiles,until, after a ten minutes' run, turned into Gramercy Park and pulledup short on the curb of the Traynor residence.
Eagerly Kenneth put his head out of the window and scanned the windowsfor a glimpse of the loved one, but no one, not even a servant, wasvisible.
The house looked deserted. His misgivings returned.Stepping out hastily, he paid the driver, and, running up the steps,rang the bell.
Roberts, the faithful old butler, who had been in the family servicefor years, came to open. Seeing a rather shabbily attired personoutside, he held the door partly closed and demanded, suspiciously:
"Who is it you wish to see?"
Irritated at the manner of his reception, Kenneth gave the door a pushthat nearly knocked the servant over. Angrily, he exclaimed:
"What's the matter, Roberts? Didn't you see it was me?"
The butler, who had recovered himself, and now believed he had to dowith a crank or some person under the influence of liquor, again barredthe way. Trying to push the unwelcome visitor out, he said soothingly:
"Come now, my good man, you've made a mistake. You don't live here."
Struck almost speechless with amazement at the brazen impudence of onewhom he had always regarded as a model servant, Kenneth turned round asif about to make a wrathful outburst. As he turned, the light from theopen door fell full on his face and now for the first time Roberts sawthe visitor's features. With a startled exclamation the man fellbackward. For a moment he was so surprised that he could not speak.Then, in an awe-stricken whisper, he cried:
"Who are you?"
For a moment Kenneth thought the man had suddenly become insane. Forhis own servant not to know him was too ridiculous. At that moment hecaught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of the hat stand. Ah, now heunderstood. The beard and emaciated face had made quite adifference--no wonder the man failed to recognize him. Breaking intolaughter he exclaimed:
"No wonder you didn't recognize me, Roberts. I have changed a little,haven't I? I've grown a beard since I saw you last and been through aregular mill. But you know me now don't you--I'm your long lostmaster."
The servant shook his head. Still closely scrutinizing Kenneth's faceas if greatly puzzled, he said:
"You're not my master, sir. Mr. Kenneth Traynor left the house someten minutes before you arrived."
Kenneth stared at the man as if he thought he had gone clean out of hismind.
"I went out ten minutes before I arrived," he echoed. "What kind ofnonsense is that, Roberts?"
"I didn't say _you_ went out," replied the servant, beginning to losehis patience. "I said Mr. Kenneth Traynor went out. You are not Mr.Kenneth Traynor."
"Then who in the name of heaven am I?"
"I haven't the remotest idea," retorted the man. Condescendingly, hewent on: "I admit you look a little like the master." Impatiently headded:
"You must excuse me. I want to close the door."
Instead of obeying the hint to withdraw, Kenneth strode further intothe house, the protesting and indignant butler at his heels.
"You must really go," said the servant.
Kenneth turned around.
"Roberts--don't be a fool. Don't you know me? I know why you don'trecognize me. You all think me dead, but I'm very much alive. I didnot go down on the _Abyssinia_. I was picked up and taken to SanFrancisco and have been in a hospital there ever since. I have justcome home. Where's my wife?"
The butler stared and stood motionless, as if not knowing what to makeof it.
"But you came home long ago."
"Who came home?"
"You did."
"No, I didn't. I've been in San Francisco all the time. How could Ibe here if I was sick in a San Francisco hospital?"
"Then who is the other Mr. Traynor?"
Now it was Kenneth's turn to be surprised.
"The other Mr. Traynor?" he echoed stupefied.
"Yes--the gentleman who looks more like you than you do yourself. Hearrived here a month ago. We all took him for you."
For the first time a light broke in on the darkness. Who was theperson who looked so like him that he could successfully impersonatehim? Who could it be but the man who left him for dead on the_Abyssinia_ after murderously assaulting him? Suddenly a horriblethought came to him. Grasping the butler's arm he exclaimed:
"My wife? Is she well?"
"Yes, sir. Mrs. Traynor's quite well."
"And Dorothy?"
"Quite well, sir."
"Thank God!"
The servant hesitated.
"That is--sir--Miss Dorothy----"
"Out with it, man. Out with it."
"Mrs. Traynor's being greatly worried sir, lately. Miss Dorothy was ather aunt's in Philadelphia----"
"Yes, yes----"
"Someone's run away with Miss Dorothy. She's been kidnapped."
"My God!"
"But Mrs. Traynor has a clue. She got a letter yesterday, saying wherethe child was. She wouldn't confide in any of us and she left hereonly half an hour ago to go to the place."
Again Kenneth was seized by panic.
"Gone to a kidnapper's den. Great God! She's running a terrible risk.Where has she gone? I'll go to her."
"I don't know, sir, but Mr. Steell may know----"
"Ah, that's right. I'll go and see Steell."
Not waiting to say more he rushed down the steps, and, hailing anothertaxi, went off at full speed in the direction of Wilbur Steell's office.
CHAPTER XX
The startling news from Philadelphia that Dorothy had suddenlydisappeared and was believed to have been kidnapped, fell upon theTraynor home with the crushing force of a bombshell. At first Helenrefused to credit the report. It seemed impossible that any newsuffering was to be inflicted upon her after what she had alreadyendured. White faced, her whole being shaken by emotion, she read andre-read her aunt's letter, telling of the child's mysteriousdisappearance, and when at last she could read it no more because ofthe tears that blinded her, she threw herself limp and broken heartedinto Ray's arms. Hysterically she cried:
"What have I done that I should be made to suffer in this way? My God!Where is my child? This maddening suspense will kill me."
Ray tried to soothe her. Reassuringly, she said:
"Don't worry, dear. Everything will be all right. A general alarm hasbeen sent out. The police all over the country are searching high andlow. It's only a question of a few hours and you'll have good news."
But the hours passed and no news came to cheer the distracted,broken-hearted mother. Dorothy had disappeared completely, leaving notrace, no clue behind.
There was neither rest nor peace for the Traynor household that day.Helen, almost out of her mind from grief and worry, refused to eat orsleep until news of the missing child was received. In her agony shewent down on her knees and prayed as she had never prayed before thather child be restored to her.
Her little daughter was, she felt, the one link that still bound her tolife. To her husband she felt she could not turn for sympathy. Theromance of their early married life had been shattered forever by theextraordinary change that had come over him. He had long since ceasedto be to her any more than a name. In her heart, she had come todespise and detest him as much as before she had worshiped the veryground he trod. It was an astonishing revulsion of feeling which shewas powerless to explain; she only knew that the old love, the oldpassion he had awakened was now quite dead. He inspired in her no moreaffection or feeling than the merest stranger. Ever since his returnfrom South Africa they had lived apart. Ever since that first night ofhis return when their tete-a-tete in the library was interrupted by thebogus telegram, he had quite ceased his amorous advances. He seemedanxious to avoid her. Only on rare occasions, and then it was byaccident, did they find themselves in each other's company.
In fact, he was practically never home, living almost exclusively atthe club, where he went the pace with associates of his choosing,mostly gamblers and men about town. He had begun to drink hard andwhen not in pool rooms or at the races, betting recklessly on thehorses, squandering such huge sums, and overdrawing his check accountso often that the bank was compelled to ask him to desist, he sat inthe barrooms with his cronies till all
hours of the morning when hewould be brought home in a condition of shocking intoxication. HappilyHelen was spared the spectacle of the degradation of a man she once hadloved with all the force of her virgin soul. Roberts, the butler,aided by the other servants, smuggled their intoxicated master up tohis room, where he remained until sober, when he went back to his clubonly to repeat the same performance.
To such a man she could not turn for aid or consolation in the hour ofthis new misfortune. Indeed, ever since his return, he had beenstrangely indifferent to the welfare of the child, never asking afterher or expressing a desire to see her. At times it seemed as if he hadforgotten that he had a child. By some strange metamorphosis he haddeveloped into an unnatural father as well as a brutal, indifferenthusband.
But to Helen, alone save for the devoted companionship of her sister,this was anxiety and suffering enough. Only twenty-four hours hadpassed since the child disappeared, but to the unhappy mother it seemedas many years. Constantly at the telephone, expecting each moment tohear that the police had been successful in finding the child, she wasgradually wearing herself away to a shadow. Breakfast she leftuntouched. Lunch she refused to eat. In vain Ray remonstrated withher. If she went on like that she would fall ill. But still Helenrefused. Tears choked her, and morning wore into afternoon and stillno news.
After lunch Ray went out to see if Mr. Steell could help them,promising to return as soon as possible. Helen sat and waited alone.The clock was just striking two o'clock when the front doorbell rangand a letter was brought to her. She did not recognize the writing,but eagerly she tore it open. Instinctively, she felt it concerned hermissing darling. The letter read as follows:
No. -- Lasalle Street, Bronx. Friday.
Madame:
Your child is safe and in good hands. She wants to see her mother. Ifyou come this afternoon (Friday) to the above address you can see her.It is the house with the closed green shutters. But if you value yourchild's life you must come unaccompanied, and you must inform no one ofthe contents of this letter, not even the members of your family. Ifyou disobey, swift punishment will follow and your child will suffer.Climb eight flights and knock three times on door at end ofpassage.----X.
There was no signature. The person who wrote it evidently had reasonsof his own for wishing to remain concealed. That money would bedemanded was more than probable. What other motive could the kidnapperhave? Money she would give--all she had in the world, if only shecould get back her precious child. That a visit to such a placeunattended was full of danger she did not stop to consider. She onlyknew that her child was close by--here in New York--and had asked forher. Not for a moment did she listen to the warnings of prudence. Goshe must, and immediately. She did not even stop to leave a note ofexplanation for Ray. Stuffing some money in a bag, she left the house,saying she would return soon.
Taking the Third Avenue "L" she left the train at Tremont Avenue, and,after considerable difficulty, found the house indicated in the letter.Yes, there were the closed green shutters. At first, on seeing itapparently untenanted, she thought she must have made a mistake in thenumber, but, finding that there was no other place near by thatanswered the description as well, she decided to risk climbing the longflight of stairs.
Arrived on the top floor, breathless from the unusual exertion, she sawa long narrow passage, and, at the end of that, a door. That, nodoubt, was the place. Her heart beating violently, she went up to thedoor and gave the three knocks. For a moment or so there was noanswer. A profound stillness reigned. Then she heard footstepsapproaching, The next instant, the door was thrown open and a man'svoice, which sounded somewhat familiar, told her to enter.
At first when she went in, she could see nothing. All the shutters ofthe windows looking on the street were closed, and the only light wasthat which filtered through the slats. It was an ordinary, cheap flat,with no carpets on the floors and little or no furniture. On thefloor, scattered here and there, were nailed-up boxes, and parts ofmachinery, some already crated, as if to be taken away.
"So you've come! I thought you would," said a voice behind her.
She turned and found herself face to face with Signor Keralio.
At first she was so astonished that she was speechless. Then herinstinct prompted her to turn and flee. If this man had caused her tobe decoyed to this house it could be for no good purpose. But therewas no way of egress. The front door was closed and locked. Not ahuman soul was within call. She was alone in an empty house with theone man she distrusted and feared more than any one else in the world.
Making an effort to conceal her alarm, she turned and faced him boldly:
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
He smiled--a horrid, cynical smile she knew only too well.
"Has not a man the right to be in his own home?"
She started back in surprise.
"This your home?" she exclaimed, glancing around at the scanty andshabby furnishings.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, don't judge by appearances. I'm really very comfortable here.It's away from the world. I like to work undisturbed." Significantly,he added: "Then, you see, it is all my own. I am quite at home here inmy own house. No one can put me out--not even you----"
She raised her hand deprecatingly.
"Please don't remind me of that. I have forgotten it long ago."
His eyes flashed dangerously as he made a step near and exclaimed:
"You have, but I have not. I have not forgotten that you put me out ofyour house ignominiously as one turns out a servant. I have neitherforgotten nor forgiven. That is why you are here to-day."
She looked at him in utter astonishment.
"What do you mean?"
He bowed and, with mock courtesy, waved her to a seat.
"I will tell you. Did you receive a letter to-day?"
"Yes--I did."
"You came here in answer to that letter."
"Yes--I did."
"Do you know who wrote that letter?"
"No--not the least."
"It was I--I wrote the letter."
With a stifled cry of mingled fright and amazement, Helen jumped upfrom the chair.
"You wrote the letter?" she exclaimed, incredulously.
He nodded.
"Yes--I wrote the letter."
Her eyes opened wide with terror, her hands clasped together nervously,she exclaimed:
"Then you are----"
He bowed.
"Exactly. I am the kidnapper of your child----"
Speechless, she stared at him, her large black eyes opened wide withterror. Looking wildly about her as if seeking her little daughter,she gasped:
"Dorothy? Dorothy here? Where is she?"
"She is safe," he replied calmly.
"Where is she, where is she? Take me to her!" she cried, distractedly,going up to him and clasping her hands in humble supplication.
He shook off the hand which, in her maternal anxiety, she had laid onhis arm. Lighting a cigarette, he gave a low laugh.
"Plenty of time. There's no hurry. You're not going yet."
Anxiously, she scrutinized his face, as if trying to read his meaning.
"She's going when I go, isn't she?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"That depends--on you."
"What do you mean?"
Again he waved her to a seat.
"Sit down and I'll tell you."
Trembling, she dropped once more on to a chair and waited. He puffeddeliberately at his cigarette for a few moments and then, turning hisglance in her direction, he smiled in a peculiar, horrible way and hiseyes ran over her figure in a way that made the crimson rush furiouslyto her cheek. There was no mistaking that smile. It was the bold,lustful look of the voluptuary who enjoys letting his eyes feast on theprey that he knows cannot now escape him.
"Mrs. Traynor," he began in the caressing, dulcet tones which shefeared more than his anger,
"you are an exceptional woman. To most menof my temperament you would not appeal. They would find your beautytoo statuesque and cold. I know you are clever, but love cannot feedon intellect alone, I have loved many women, but never a woman justlike you. Your coldness, your haughty reserve, your refinement wouldintimidate most men and keep them at a distance, but not me. Youraloofness, your indifference only spurs me, only adds to the acutenessof my desire. I swore to myself that I would conquer you, overcomeyour resistance, bend you to my will. You turned me out of your home.I swore to be avenged."
He stopped for a moment and watched her closely as if studying andenjoying the effect of his words. Then, amid a cloud of blue tobaccosmoke, he went on:
"I knew only one way to win you--it was to humiliate you, to place youin a position where you would have to come to me on your knees."
She half rose from her chair.
"I would never do that," she cried. "I would rather die!"
"Oh, yes, you will," he continued, calmly, making a gesture to her toremain seated. "When I've told you all, you'll see things in adifferent light." Fixing her steadily with his piercing black eyes, heasked: "Have you noticed any difference in your husband since hisreturn."
She looked up quickly.
"Yes--what does it mean? Can you explain?"
He nodded.
"Did you ever hear your husband speak of a twin brother he once had?"
Her face turned white as death and her heart throbbing violently, shestared helplessly at her persecutor. She tried to be calm, but shecould not. Yet, why be so alarmed, why should this single question soagitate her? In the deepest recesses of her being she knew that it washer unerring instinct warning her that she was about to hear somethingthat would entail worse suffering than any she had yet endured.
"Yes--yes--why do you ask?" she gasped.
"You all thought the brother dead."
"Yes."
"You were mistaken. He is alive."
"Where is he?" she faltered.
"Here in New York."
"Where?"
"In your house. The man who returned home was not your husband. Hewas your husband's twin brother."
She looked at him as one bewildered, as if she did not understand whathe was saying, as if words had suddenly lost their meaning. Her face,white as in death, she faltered:
"Not Kenneth--then where is Kenneth?"
"He is dead!"
Her powers of speech paralyzed, her large eyes starting from theirsockets from terror, an expression of mute helpless agony on herbeautiful face, she looked up at him with horror. Not yet could shefully grasp the meaning of his words. At last the frightful spell wasbroken. With an effort the words came:
"Then you," she cried. "You are his assassin!"
He shook his head as he replied carelessly:
"No--not I--his brother!"
She gave a cry of anguish and, starting to her feet, made a movementforward, her hands clutching convulsively at her throat. Air! air!She must have air. She felt sick and dizzy. The room was spinninground like a top, and then everything grew dark. Lurching heavilyforward she would have fallen had he not caught her.
Instantly she shrank from the contact as from something unclean, andwith a low moan sank down on a chair and buried her face in her hands.Her instinct had told her true. Her loved one was dead, she wouldnever see him again, and that man who had come into the sanctity of herhome and fondled her in his arms was his murderer. Oh, it was toohorrible!
The bitter, cynical smile was still on Keralio's lips as he went on:
"You see the folly of resisting me. Had you surrendered at that timeall might have been well. The price was not too much to pay. I wouldhave been discreet. No one but ourselves would have known that you andI were----"
He did not complete the sentence, for at that moment she sprang forwardlike an enraged tiger cat, and, seizing a cane that stood close by,struck him across the face with all the force of her outraged womanhood.
"Murderer! Assassin!" she cried indignantly. "How dare you talk likethat to me? I will denounce you to the whole world. I will not resttill I see you and that other scoundrel punished and my poor husband isavenged. On leaving here I shall go direct to the police."
Imbued with strength she never dreamed she possessed, she was about tohit him again when he seized the cane and threw it away. But acrosshis pale, handsome face lay a telltale red mark, the smart of whichburned into his soul.
His eyes flashed with anger and he made a visible effort to controlhimself. He took a step forward and, as he advanced she saw anexpression in his face which prompted her to retreat precipitately. Itwas a dangerous look, the look of a man who knew he had a helplesswoman in his power, a man who was desperate and would stop at nothingto encompass his ends. Now thoroughly frightened, she looked aroundfor some way to escape. The windows were impossible, the only way wasby the door and he barred the way. Besides, she would never go withouther child.
He noticed the movement and look of alarm, and he smiled. Continuingto advance, he said:
"There's no use making a fuss. No one could hear you if you shoutedfor help till the crack of doom. You are alone with me--and absolutelyin my power. Do as I ask and there is nothing you shall not have.Refuse, and I answer for nothing. Come----"
Her whole body trembling, her face white with terror, she kept onretreating:
"Leave me alone!" she gasped, "or I will scream."
"Scream away," he laughed. "There's no one here to hear you."
Suddenly he made a quick lunge forward and seized her. She struggledand resisted with all the energy born of despair, pushing, twisting,scratching. But they were too unevenly matched. She was like aninfant in the grasp of an Hercules. Slowly, she felt her strengthleaving her. His iron grasp gradually closed on her, nearer and nearerhe drew her into his embrace.
With a last, superhuman effort, she managed to wrench herself free, outof his grip, and breaking completely away, she fled into the next room.But he was after her in a minute and again seized her, but not beforeshe screamed at the top of her voice:
"Help! Help! Kenneth! Wilbur! Help! Help!"
He tried to gag her mouth to stifle her cries, but it was too late.His quick ear caught the sound of approaching footsteps in the outsidehall. Almost at the same instant there was a loud knocking at the door.
Keralio fell back, his face white and tense. Had his plans failed atthe eleventh hour, could anyone have played him false? If the game wasup, they should never take him alive. Leaving Helen, he drew arevolver, and, going quickly into the inner hall, he waited in grimsilence for the visitors to force an entrance.
"Open the door, or we'll break it in!" shouted a stern voice outside."There's no use resisting. The place is surrounded."
Still no answer. Keralio stood grimly in the shadow of the parlordoorway, revolver in hand, while Helen cowered in the inner room, inmomentary expectation of a tragedy.
Crash! The front door fell in, shattered into a thousand splinters,and through the breach thus made rushed Wilbur Steell, Dick Reynolds,and half a score husky Central Office detectives, revolvers in hand.
"There is he!" cried the lawyer, pointing to Keralio.
Quick as a flash, the Italian raised the revolver and fired, the bulletentering the plastered wall an inch away from the lawyer's head.Almost simultaneously, another pistol shot rang out, but this time theaim was truer, for, with a cry of baffled rage, Keralio threw his armsabove his head and fell to the floor dead. Quickly, one of thedetectives stooped down and compared his face with a photograph he hadtaken from his pocket.
"Yes----" he exclaimed; "that's the fellow--well known counterfeiter.Did time in San Quentin and Joliet. Known as Baron Rapp, RichardBarton and a dozen other aliases. He's one of the slickest rogues inthe country. We've got the valet safe downstairs. I guess he'll gettwenty years."
But Steell had not waited to hear about Keralio. There were othersmore
important to think about. Rushing into the inner room, he foundHelen prostrate, half fainting from fright.
"Thank God, I'm in time!" he exclaimed.
"Dorothy," she murmured weakly. "Save Dorothy! She's somewhere here."
Going into another room, the lawyer found the little girl fast asleepon a bed. Bringing her to her mother, he said tenderly:
"Here's your treasure. Now you can be happy."
She shook her head. The nightmare of what Keralio had told her, stillobsessed her.
"No--" she shuddered; "--never again. They have killed him!"
To her surprise, the lawyer, instead of sharing her sorrow, actuallysmiled.
"Helen," he said; "I have a great surprise for you. A friend hasaccompanied me here. He called at your house to-day, but you had justleft, so he called on me. You have not seen him since he sailed awaythree months ago on the _Mauretania_."
She listened bewildered. Her color came and went. What did he mean?Could it be possible that--no, had not Keralio said he was dead?Trembling with suppressed emotion, she whispered:
"Tell me--what is it--tell me----"
For all reply, the lawyer went to the door and beckoned to someone whohad waited in the outer hall. A moment later a man entered, a tall,well set figure that was strangely familiar. Straining her eyesthrough her tears, it seemed to her that her mind must be playing hersome trick, for there before her, stood Kenneth, not the impostor herinstinct had warned her to detest and avoid, but the real Kenneth shehad loved, the father of her child. With a joyous exclamation, shetottered forward.
"Kenneth!" she cried.
The man, his athletic form broken by sobs, opened his arms.
"My own precious darling!"
A moment later they were clasped in each other's arms. Ah, now sheknew that he had come home! This, indeed, was the husband she loved.There was no deception this time. Wonderingly, she turned to Steell.
"How did it happen?" she asked wonderingly.
"We'll tell you later--not now," he replied.
She shuddered as she asked in a low voice.
"But where is his brother?"
"Dead! He shot himself at the club. Kenneth and I went to confronthim at the club before coming here. It was his only way out."
The detective stepped forward. Addressing the lawyer and holding outtwo enormous diamonds that sparkled like fire in the sunlight, he said:
"We've just found these, together with a lot of counterfeit money."
The lawyer laughed as he took charge of the diamonds.
"It'll please Mr. Parker to see these. Come, Dick. Our work is done."
Kenneth put his arms around his wife.
"Safe in port at last, dear."
"You'll never go away again," she murmured through her tears.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends