"Good night, dear!" said Helen, rising and kissing her.
"Good night, Ken! Pleasant dreams," cried the young girl as she left the room.
"Good night!" he responded hoarsely.
The sound of her footsteps died away in the distance and Helen and the gambler sat there in silence. He watched her furtively, trying to guess the trend of her thoughts, his eyes bloodshot with wine, feasting on every line of her girlish figure.
Never had she looked more beautiful, more desirable, than this evening. Her décolleté gown revealed a white, plump neck, her lips were red and tempting, her large dark eyes fairly sparkled from excitement. It was a vision to distract a saint and Handsome was no saint. It was indeed only with the greatest difficulty that he curbed his impatience to carry off the prize that lay within his grasp.
"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——"