The mystery of the Blue Train

listen to reason. Somehow or other, they don't seem to have any kind of _sense_. Talk of woman's instinct--why, it is well known all the world over that a woman is the surest mark for any rascally swindler. Not one in ten of them knows a scoundrel when she meets one; they can be preyed on by any good-looking fellow with a soft side to his tongue. If I had my way--" He was interrupted. A page-boy entered with a telegram. Van Aldin tore it open, and his face went a sudden chalky white. He caught hold of the back of a chair to steady himself, and waved the page-boy from the room. "What's the matter, sir?" Knighton had risen in concern. "Ruth!" said Van Aldin hoarsely. "Mrs. Kettering?" "Killed!" "An accident to the train?" Van Aldin shook his head. "No. From this it seems she has been robbed as well. They don't use the word, Knighton, but my poor girl has been murdered." "Oh, my God, sir!" Van Aldin tapped the telegram with his forefinger. "This is from the police at Nice. I must go out there by the first train." Knighton was efficient as ever. He glanced at the clock. "Five o'clock from Victoria, sir." "That's right. You will come with me, Knighton. Tell my man, Archer, and pack your own things. See to everything here. I want to go round to Curzon Street." The telephone rang sharply, and the secretary lifted the receiver. "Yes; who is it?" Then to Van Aldin. "Mr. Goby, sir." "Goby? I can't see him now. No--wait, we have plenty of time. Tell them to send him up." Van Aldin was a strong man. Already he had recovered that iron calm of his. Few people would have noticed anything amiss in his greeting to Mr. Goby. "I am pressed for time, Goby. Got anything important to tell me?" Mr. Goby coughed. "The movements of Mr. Kettering, sir. You wished them reported to you." "Yes--well?" "Mr. Kettering, sir, left London for the Riviera yesterday morning." "What?" Something in his voice must have startled Mr. Goby. That worthy gentleman departed from his usual practice of never looking at the person to whom he was talking, and stole a fleeting glance at the millionaire. "What train did he go on?" demanded Van Aldin. "The Blue Train, sir." Mr. Goby coughed again and spoke to the clock on the mantelpiece. "Mademoiselle Mirelle, the dancer from the Parthenon, went by the same train." 14. Ada Mason's Story "I cannot repeat to you often enough, Monsieur, our horror, our consternation, and the deep sympathy we feel for you." Thus M. Carrège, the Juge d'Instruction, addressed Van Aldin. M. Caux, the Commissary, made sympathetic noises in his throat. Van Aldin brushed away horror, consternation, and sympathy with an abrupt gesture. The scene was the Examining Magistrate's room at Nice. Besides M. Carrège, the Commissary, and Van Aldin, there was a further person in the room. It was that person who now spoke. "M. Van Aldin," he said, "desires action--swift action." "Ah!" cried the Commissary, "I have not yet presented you. M. Van Aldin, this is M. Hercule Poirot; you have doubtless heard of him. Although he has retired from his profession for some years now, his name is still a household word as one of the greatest living detectives." "Pleased to meet you, M. Poirot," said Van Aldin, falling back mechanically on a formula that he had discarded some years ago. "You have retired from your profession?" "That is so, Monsieur. Now I enjoy the world." The little man made a grandiloquent gesture. "M. Poirot happened to be travelling on the Blue Train," explained the Commissary, "and he has been so kind as to assist us out of his vast experience." The millionaire looked at Poirot keenly. Then he said unexpectedly: "I am a very rich man, M. Poirot. It is usually said that a rich man labours under the belief that he can buy everything and every one. That is not true. I am a big man in my way, and one big man can ask a favour from another big man." Poirot nodded a quick appreciation. "That is very well said, M. Van Aldin. I place myself entirely at your service." "Thank you," said Van Aldin. "I can only say call upon me at any time, and you will not find me ungrateful. And now, gentlemen, to business." "I propose," said M. Carrège, "to interrogate the maid, Ada Mason. You have her here, I understand?" "Yes," said Van Aldin. "We picked her up in Paris in passing through. She was very upset to hear of her mistress's death, but she tells her story coherently enough." "We will have her in, then," said M. Carrège. He rang the bell on his desk, and in a few minutes Ada Mason entered the room. She was very neatly dressed in black, and the tip of her nose was red. She had exchanged her grey travelling gloves for a pair of black suède ones. She cast a look round the Examining Magistrate's office in some trepidation, and seemed relieved at the presence of her mistress's father. The Examining Magistrate prided himself on his geniality of manner, and did his best to put her at her ease. He was helped in this by Poirot, who acted as interpreter, and whose friendly manner was reassuring to the Englishwoman. "Your name is Ada Mason; is that right?" "Ada Beatrice I was christened, sir," said Mason primly. "Just so. And we can understand, Mason, that this has all been very distressing." "Oh, indeed it has, sir. I have been with many ladies and always given satisfaction, I hope, and I never dreamt of anything of this kind happening in any situation where I was." "No, no," said M. Carrège. "Naturally I have read of such things, of course, in the Sunday papers. And then I always have understood that those foreign trains--" She suddenly checked her flow, remembering that the gentlemen who were speaking to her were of the same nationality as the trains. "Now let us talk this affair over," said M. Carrège. "There was, I understand, no question of your staying in Paris when you started from London?" "Oh no, sir. We were to go straight through to Nice." "Have you ever been abroad with your mistress before?" "No, sir. I had only been with her two months, you see." "Did she seem quite as usual when starting on this journey?" "She was worried like and a bit upset, and she was rather irritable and difficult to please." M. Carrège nodded. "Now then, Mason, what was the first you heard of your stopping in Paris?" "It was at the place they call the Gare de Lyon, sir. My mistress was thinking of getting out and walking up and down the platform. She was just going out into the corridor when she gave a sudden exclamation, and came back into her compartment with a gentleman. She shut the door between her carriage and mine, so that I didn't see or hear anything, till she suddenly opened it again and told me that she had changed her plans. She gave me some money and told me to get out and go to the Ritz. They knew her well there, she said, and would give me a room. I was to wait there until I heard from her; she would wire me what she wanted me to do. I had just time to get my things together and jump out of the train before it started off. It was a rush." "While Mrs. Kettering was telling you this, where was the gentleman?" "He was standing in the other compartment, sir, looking out of the window." "Can you describe him to us?" "Well, you see, sir, I hardly saw him. He had his back to me most of the time. He was a tall gentleman and dark; that's all I can say. He was dressed very like any other gentleman in a dark blue overcoat and a grey hat." "Was he one of the passengers on the train?" "I don't think so, sir; I took it that he had come to the station to see Mrs. Kettering in passing through. Of course he might have been one of the passengers; I never thought of that." Mason seemed a little flurried by the suggestion. "Ah!" M. Carrège passed lightly to another subject. "Your mistress later requested the conductor not to rouse her early in the morning. Was that a likely thing for her to do, do you think?" "Oh yes, sir. The mistress never ate any breakfast and she didn't sleep well at nights, so that she liked sleeping on in the morning." Again M. Carrège passed to another subject. "Amongst the luggage there was a scarlet morocco case, was there not?" he asked. "Your mistress's jewel-case?" "Yes, sir." "Did you take that case to the Ritz?" "_Me_ take the mistress's jewel-case to the Ritz! Oh no, indeed, sir." Mason's tones were horrified. "You left it behind you in the carriage?" "Yes, sir." "Had your mistress many jewels with her, do you know?" "A fair amount, sir; made me a bit uneasy sometimes, I can tell you, with those nasty tales you hear of being robbed in foreign countries. They were insured, I know, but all the same it seemed a frightful risk. Why, the rubies alone, the mistress told me, were worth several hundred thousand pounds." "The rubies! What rubies?" barked Van Aldin suddenly. Mason turned to him. "I think it was you who gave them to her, sir, not very long ago." "My God!" cried Van Aldin. "You don't say she had those rubies with her? I told her to leave them at the Bank." Mason gave once more the discreet cough which was apparently part of her stock-in-trade as a lady's maid. This time it expressed a good deal. It expressed far more clearly than words could have done, that Mason's mistress had been a lady who took her own way. "Ruth must have been mad," muttered Van Aldin. "What on earth could have possessed her?" M. Carrège in turn gave vent to a cough, again a cough of significance. It riveted Van Aldin's attention on him. "For the moment," said M. Carrège, addressing Mason, "I think that is all. If you will go into the next room, Mademoiselle, they will read over to you the questions and answers, and you will sign accordingly." Mason went out escorted by the clerk, and Van Aldin said immediately to the Magistrate: "Well?" M. Carrège opened a drawer in his desk, took out a letter, and handed it across to Van Aldin. "This was found in Madame's handbag." _"Chère Amie" (the letter ran)--"I will obey you; I will be prudent, discreet--all those things that a lover most hates. Paris would perhaps have been unwise, but the Isles d'Or are far away from the world, and you may be assured that nothing will leak out. It is like you and your divine sympathy to be so interested in the work on famous jewels that I am writing. It will, indeed, be an extraordinary privilege to actually see and handle these historic rubies. I am devoting a special passage to 'Heart of Fire.' My wonderful one! Soon I will make up to you for all those sad years of separation and emptiness.--Your ever-adoring,_ "_Armand._" 15. The Comte de la Roche Van Aldin read the letter through in silence. His face turned a dull angry crimson. The men watching him saw the veins start out on his forehead, and his big hands clench themselves unconsciously. He handed back the letter without a word. M. Carrège was looking with close attention at his desk, M. Caux's eyes were fixed upon the ceiling, and M. Hercule Poirot was tenderly brushing a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. With the greatest tact they none of them looked at Van Aldin. It was M. Carrège, mindful of his status and his duties, who tackled the unpleasant subject. "Perhaps, Monsieur," he murmured, "you are aware by whom--er--this letter was written?" "Yes, I know," said Van Aldin heavily. "Ah?" said the Magistrate inquiringly. "A scoundrel who calls himself the Comte de la Roche."