The mystery of the Blue Train
strongly. She felt herself in the presence of a very genuine grief, the
more real for its absence of outward sign.
He drew forward a chair.
"Sit here, will you, and just tell me all about it."
Poirot and Knighton retired discreetly into the other room, and
Katherine and Van Aldin were left alone together. She found no
difficulty in her task. Quite simply and naturally she related her
conversation with Ruth Kettering, word for word as nearly as she
could. He listened in silence, leaning back in his chair, with one hand
shading his eyes. When she had finished he said quietly:
"Thank you, my dear."
They both sat silent for a minute or two. Katherine felt that words of
sympathy would be out of place. When the millionaire spoke, it was in a
different tone:
"I am very grateful to you, Miss Grey. I think you did something to
ease my poor Ruth's mind in the last hours of her life. Now I want
to ask you something. You know--M. Poirot will have told you--about
the scoundrel that my poor girl had got herself mixed up with. He was
the man of whom she spoke to you--the man she was going to meet. In
your judgment do you think she might have changed her mind after her
conversation with you? Do you think she meant to go back on her word?"
"I can't honestly tell you. She had certainly come to some decision,
and seemed more cheerful in consequence of it."
"She gave you no idea where she intended to meet the skunk--whether in
Paris or at Hyères?"
Katherine shook her head.
"She said nothing as to that."
"Ah!" said Van Aldin thoughtfully, "and that is the important point.
Well, time will show."
He got up and opened the door of the adjoining room. Poirot and
Knighton came back.
Katherine declined the millionaire's invitation to lunch, and Knighton
went down with her and saw her into the waiting car. He returned to
find Poirot and Van Aldin deep in conversation.
"If we only knew," said the millionaire thoughtfully, "what decision
Ruth came to. It might have been any of half a dozen. She might have
meant to leave the train at Paris and cable to me. She may have meant
to have gone on to the south of France and have an explanation with the
Count there. We are in the dark--absolutely in the dark. But we have
the maid's word for it that she was both startled and dismayed at the
Count's appearance at the station in Paris. That was clearly not part
of the preconceived plan. You agree with me, Knighton?"
The secretary started. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Van Aldin. I was not
listening."
"Day-dreaming, eh?" said Van Aldin. "That's not like you. I believe
that girl has bowled you over."
Knighton blushed.
"She is a remarkably nice girl," said Van Aldin thoughtfully, "very
nice. Did you happen to notice her eyes?"
"Any man," said Knighton, "would be bound to notice her eyes."
21. At the Tennis
Several days had elapsed. Katherine had been for a walk by herself one
morning, and came back to find Lenox grinning at her expectantly.
"Your young man has been ringing you up, Katherine!"
"Who do you call my young man?"
"A new one--Rufus Van Aldin's secretary. You seem to have made rather
an impression there. You are becoming a serious breaker of hearts,
Katherine. First Derek Kettering, and now this young Knighton. The
funny thing is, that I remember him quite well. He was in Mother's War
Hospital that she ran out here. I was only a kid of about eight at the
time."
"Was he badly wounded?"
"Shot in the leg, if I remember rightly--rather a nasty business. I
think the doctors messed it up a bit. They said he wouldn't limp or
anything, but when he left here he was still completely dot and go one."
Lady Tamplin came out and joined them.
"Have you been telling Katherine about Major Knighton?" she asked.
"Such a dear fellow! Just at first I didn't remember him--one had so
many--but now it all comes back."
"He was a bit too unimportant to be remembered before," said Lenox.
"Now that he is a secretary to an American millionaire, it is a very
different matter."
"Darling!" said Lady Tamplin in her vague reproachful voice.
"What did Major Knighton ring up about?" inquired Katherine.
"He asked if you would like to go to the tennis this afternoon. If so,
he would call for you in a car. Mother and I accepted for you with
_empressement_. Whilst you dally with a millionaire's secretary, you
might give me a chance with the millionaire, Katherine. He is about
sixty, I suppose, so that he will be looking about for a nice sweet
young thing like me."
"I should like to meet Mr. Van Aldin," said Lady Tamplin earnestly;
"one has heard so much of him. Those fine rugged figures of the Western
world"--she broke off--"so fascinating," she murmured.
"Major Knighton was very particular to say it was Mr. Van Aldin's
invitation," said Lenox. "He said it so often that I began to smell a
rat. You and Knighton would make a very nice pair, Katherine. Bless
you, my children!"
Katherine laughed, and went upstairs to change her clothes.
Knighton arrived soon after lunch and endured manfully Lady Tamplin's
transports of recognition.
When they were driving together towards Cannes he remarked to
Katherine: "Lady Tamplin has changed wonderfully little."
"In manner or appearance?"
"Both. She must be, I suppose, well over forty, but she is a remarkably
beautiful woman still."
"She is," agreed Katherine.
"I am very glad that you could come to-day," went on Knighton. "M.
Poirot is going to be there also. What an extraordinary little man he
is. Do you know him well, Miss Grey?"
Katherine shook her head. "I met him on the train on the way here. I
was reading a detective novel, and I happened to say something about
such things not happening in real life. Of course, I had no idea of who
he was."
"He is a very remarkable person," said Knighton slowly, "and has done
some very remarkable things. He has a kind of genius for going to the
root of the matter, and right up to the end no one has any idea of
what he is really thinking. I remember I was staying at a house in
Yorkshire, and Lady Clanravon's jewels were stolen. It seemed at first
to be a simple robbery, but it completely baffled the local police. I
wanted them to call in Hercule Poirot, and said he was the only man who
could help them, but they pinned their faith to Scotland Yard."
"And what happened?" said Katherine curiously.
"The jewels were never recovered," said Knighton drily.
"You really do believe in him?"
"I do indeed. The Comte de la Roche is a pretty wily customer. He
has wriggled out of most things. But I think he has met his match in
Hercule Poirot."
"The Comte de la Roche," said Katherine thoughtfully; "so you really
think he did it?"
"Of course." Knighton looked at her in astonishment. "Don't you?"
"Oh yes," said Katherine hastily; "that is, I mean, if it was not just
an ordinary train robbery."
"It might be, of course," agreed the other, "but it seems to me that
the Comte de la Roche fits into this business particularly well."
"And yet he has an alibi."
"Oh, alibis!" Knighton laughed, his face broke into his attractive
boyish smile.
"You confess that you read detective stories, Miss Grey. You must know
that any one who has a perfect alibi is always open to grave suspicion."
"Do you think that real life is like that?" asked Katherine, smiling.
"Why not? Fiction is founded on fact."
"But is rather superior to it," suggested Katherine.
"Perhaps. Anyway, if I was a criminal I should not like to have Hercule
Poirot on my track."
"No more should I," said Katherine, and laughed.
They were met on arrival by Poirot. As the day was warm he was attired
in a white duck suit, with a white camellia in his buttonhole.
"_Bon jour_, Mademoiselle," said Poirot. "I look very English, do I
not?"
"You look wonderful," said Katherine tactfully.
"You mock yourself at me," said Poirot genially, "but no matter. Papa
Poirot, he always laughs the last."
"Where is Mr. Van Aldin?" asked Knighton.
"He will meet us at our seats. To tell you the truth, my friend, he
is not too well pleased with me. Oh, those Americans--the repose, the
calm, they know it not! Mr. Van Aldin, he would that I fly myself in
the pursuit of criminals through all the byways of Nice."
"I should have thought myself that it would not have been a bad plan,"
observed Knighton.
"You are wrong," said Poirot; "in these matters one needs not energy
but finesse. At the tennis one meets every one. That is so important.
Ah, there is Mr. Kettering."
Derek came abruptly up to them. He looked reckless and angry, as though
something had arisen to upset him. He and Knighton greeted each other
with some frigidity. Poirot alone seemed unconscious of any sense of
strain, and chatted pleasantly in a laudable attempt to put every one
at his ease. He paid little compliments.
"It is amazing, M. Kettering, how well you speak the French," he
observed--"so well that you could be taken for a Frenchman if you
chose. That is a very rare accomplishment among Englishmen."
"I wish I did," said Katherine. "I am only too well aware that my
French is of a painfully British order."
They reached their seats and sat down, and almost immediately Knighton
perceived his employer signaling to him from the other end of the
court, and went off to speak to him.
"Me, I approve of that young man," said Poirot, sending a beaming smile
after the departing secretary; "and you, Mademoiselle?"
"I like him very much."
"And you, M. Kettering?"
Some quick rejoinder was springing to Derek's lips, but he checked it
as though something in the little Belgian's twinkling eyes had made him
suddenly alert. He spoke carefully, choosing his words.
"Knighton is a very good fellow," he said.
Just for a moment Katherine fancied that Poirot looked disappointed.
"He is a great admirer of yours, M. Poirot," she said, and she related
some of the things that Knighton had said. It amused her to see the
little man plume himself like a bird, thrusting out his chest, and
assuming an air of mock modesty that would have deceived no one.
"That reminds me, Mademoiselle," he said suddenly, "I have a little
matter of business I have to speak to you about. When you were sitting
talking to that poor lady in the train, I think you must have dropped a
cigarette case."
Katherine looked rather astonished. "I don't think so," she said.
Poirot drew from his pocket a cigarette case of soft blue leather, with
the initial "K" on it in gold.
"No, that is not mine," Katherine said.
"Ah, a thousand apologies. It was doubtless Madame's own. 'K,' of
course, stands for Kettering. We were doubtful, because she had another
cigarette case in her bag, and it seemed odd that she should have two."
He turned to Derek suddenly. "You do not know, I suppose, whether this
was your wife's case or not?"
Derek seemed momentarily taken aback. He stammered a little in his
reply: "I--I don't know. I suppose so."
"It is not yours by any chance?"
"Certainly not. If it were mine it would hardly have been in my wife's
possession."
Poirot looked more ingenuous and childlike than ever.
"I thought perhaps you might have dropped it when you were in your
wife's compartment," he explained guilelessly.
"I never was there. I have already told the police that a dozen times."
"A thousand pardons," said Poirot, with his most apologetic air. "It
was Mademoiselle here who mentioned having seen you going in."
He stopped with an air of embarrassment.
Katherine looked at Derek. His face had gone rather white, but perhaps
that was her fancy. His laugh, when it came, was natural enough.
"You made a mistake, Miss Grey," he said easily. "From what the police