The mystery of the Blue Train
"You could, perhaps, love a thief, Mademoiselle, _but not a murderer_."
He wheeled sharply away on that and left her sitting there.
He heard the little gasp she gave and paid no attention. He had
said what he meant to say. He left her there to digest that last
unmistakable phrase.
Derek Kettering, coming out of the Casino into the sunshine, saw her
sitting alone on the bench and joined her.
"I have been gambling," he said, with a light laugh, "gambling
unsuccessfully. I have lost everything--everything, that is, that I
have with me."
Katherine looked at him with a troubled face. She was aware at once
of something new in his manner, some hidden excitement that betrayed
itself in a hundred different infinitesimal signs.
"I should think you were always a gambler. The spirit of gambling
appeals to you."
"Every day and in every way a gambler? You are about right. Don't _you_
find something stimulating in it? To risk all on one throw--there is
nothing like it."
Calm and stolid as she believed herself to be, Katherine felt a faint
answering thrill.
"I want to talk to you," went on Derek, "and who knows when I may have
another opportunity? There is an idea going about that I murdered
my wife--no, please don't interrupt. It is absurd, of course." He
paused for a minute or two, then went on, speaking more deliberately.
"In dealing with the police and Local Authorities here I have had to
pretend to--well--a certain decency. I prefer not to pretend with you.
I meant to marry money. I was on the lookout for money when I first
met Ruth Van Aldin. She had the look of a slim Madonna about her,
and I--well--I made all sorts of good resolutions--and was bitterly
disillusioned. My wife was in love with another man when she married
me. She never cared for me in the least. Oh, I am not complaining; the
thing was a perfectly respectable bargain. She wanted Leconbury and I
wanted money. The trouble arose simply through Ruth's American blood.
Without caring a pin for me, she would have liked me to be continually
dancing attendance. Time and again she as good as told me that she had
bought me and that I belonged to her. The result was that I behaved
abominably to her. My father-in-law will tell you that, and he is
quite right. At the time of Ruth's death, I was faced with absolute
disaster." He laughed suddenly. "One _is_ faced with absolute disaster
when one is up against a man like Rufus Van Aldin."
"And then?" asked Katherine in a low voice.
"And then," Derek shrugged his shoulders, "Ruth was murdered--very
providentially."
He laughed, and the sound of his laugh hurt Katherine. She winced.
"Yes," said Derek, "that wasn't in very good taste. But it is quite
true. Now I am going to tell you something more. From the very first
moment I saw you I knew you were the only woman in the world for me. I
was--afraid of you. I thought you might bring me bad luck."
"Bad luck?" said Katherine sharply.
He stared at her. "Why do you repeat it like that? What have you got in
your mind?"
"I was thinking of things that people have said to me."
Derek grinned suddenly. "They will say a lot to you about me, my dear,
and most of it will be true. Yes, and worse things too--things that I
shall never tell you. I have been a gambler always--and I have taken
some long odds. I shan't confess to you now or at any other time. The
past is done with. There is one thing I do wish you to believe. I swear
to you solemnly that I did not kill my wife."
He said the words earnestly enough, yet there was somehow a theatrical
touch about them. He met her troubled gaze and went on:
"I know. I lied the other day. It _was_ my wife's compartment I went
into."
"Ah," said Katherine.
"It's difficult to explain just why I went in, but I'll try. I did it
on an impulse. You see, I was more or less spying on my wife. I kept
out of sight on the train. Mirelle had told me that my wife was meeting
the Comte de la Roche in Paris. Well, as far as I had seen, that was
not so. I felt ashamed, and I thought suddenly that it would be a good
thing to have it out with her once and for all, so I pushed open the
door and went in."
He paused.
"Yes," said Katherine gently.
"Ruth was lying on the bunk asleep--her face was turned away from me--I
could see only the back of her head. I could have waked her up, of
course. But suddenly I felt a reaction. What, after all, was there to
say that we hadn't both of us said a hundred times before? She looked
so peaceful lying there. I left the compartment as quietly as I could."
"Why lie about it to the police?" asked Katherine.
"Because I'm not a complete fool. I've realized from the beginning
that, from the point of view of motive, I'm the ideal murderer. If I
once admitted that I had been in her compartment just before she was
murdered, I'd do for myself once and for all."
"I see."
Did she see? She could not have told herself. She was feeling the
magnetic attraction of Derek's personality, but there was something in
her that resisted, that held back....
"Katherine--"
"I--"
"You know that I care for you. Do--do you care for me?"
"I--I don't know."
Weakness there. Either she knew or she did not know. If--if only--
She cast a look round desperately as though seeking something that
would help her. A soft colour rose in her cheeks as a tall fair man
with a limp came hurrying along the path towards them--Major Knighton.
There was relief and an unexpected warmth in her voice as she greeted
him.
Derek stood up scowling, his face black as a thundercloud.
"Lady Tamplin having a flutter?" he said easily. "I must join her and
give her the benefit of my system."
He swung round on his heel and left them together. Katherine sat down
again. Her heart was beating rapidly and unevenly, but as she sat there
talking commonplaces to the quiet, rather shy man beside her, her
self-command came back.
Then she realized with a shock that Knighton also was laying bare his
heart, much as Derek had done, but in a very different manner.
He was shy and stammering. The words came haltingly with no eloquence
to back them.
"From the first moment I saw you--I--I ought not to have spoken so
soon--but Mr. Van Aldin may leave here any day, and I might not
have another chance. I know you can't care for me so soon--that is
impossible. I dare say it is presumption anyway on my part. I have
private means, but not very much--no, please don't answer now. I know
what your answer would be. But in case I went away suddenly I just
wanted you to know--that I care."
She was shaken--touched. His manner was so gentle and appealing.
"There's one thing more. I just wanted to say that if--if you are ever
in trouble, anything that I can do--"
He took her hand in his, held it tightly for a minute, then dropped it
and walked rapidly away towards the Casino without looking back.
Katherine sat perfectly still, looking after him. Derek
Kettering--Richard Knighton--two men so different--so very different.
There was something kind about Knighton, kind and trustworthy. As to
Derek--
Then suddenly Katherine had a very curious sensation. She felt that
she was no longer sitting alone on the seat in the Casino gardens, but
that some one was standing beside her, and that that some one was the
dead woman, Ruth Kettering. She had a further impression that Ruth
wanted--badly--to tell her something. The impression was so curious, so
vivid, that it could not be driven away. She felt absolutely certain
that the spirit of Ruth Kettering was trying to convey something of
vital importance to her. The impression faded. Katherine got up,
trembling a little. What was it that Ruth Kettering had wanted so badly
to say?
27. Interview with Mirelle
When Knighton left Katherine he went in search of Hercule Poirot, whom
he found in the Rooms, jauntily placing the minimum stake on the even
numbers. As Knighton joined him, the number thirty-three turned up, and
Poirot's stake was swept away.
"Bad luck!" said Knighton; "are you going to stake again?"
Poirot shook his head.
"Not at present."
"Do you feel the fascination of gambling?" asked Knighton curiously.
"Not at roulette."
Knighton shot a swift glance at him. His own face became troubled. He
spoke haltingly, with a touch of deference.
"I wonder, are you busy, M. Poirot? There is something I would like to
ask you about."
"I am at your disposal. Shall we go outside? It is pleasant in the
sunshine."
They strolled out together, and Knighton drew a deep breath.
"I love the Riviera," he said. "I came here first twelve years ago,
during the War, when I was sent to Lady Tamplin's Hospital. It was like
Paradise, coming from Flanders to this."
"It must have been," said Poirot.
"How long ago the War seems now!" mused Knighton.
They walked on in silence for some little way.
"You have something on your mind?" said Poirot.
Knighton looked at him in some surprise.
"You are quite right," he confessed. "I don't know how you knew it,
though."
"It showed itself only too plainly," said Poirot drily.
"I did not know that I was so transparent."
"It is my business to observe the physiognomy," the little man
explained, with dignity.
"I will tell you, M. Poirot. You have heard of this dancer
woman--Mirelle?"
"She who is the _chère amie_ of M. Derek Kettering?"
"Yes, that is the one; and, knowing this, you will understand that Mr.
Van Aldin is naturally prejudiced against her. She wrote to him, asking
for an interview. He told me to dictate a curt refusal, which of course
I did. This morning she came to the hotel and sent up her card, saying
that it was urgent and vital that she should see Mr. Van Aldin at once."
"You interest me," said Poirot.
"Mr. Van Aldin was furious. He told me what message to send down to
her. I ventured to disagree with him. It seemed to me both likely and
probable that this woman Mirelle might give us valuable information.
We know that she was on the Blue Train, and she may have seen or heard
something that it might be vital for us to know. Don't you agree with
me, M. Poirot?"
"I do," said Poirot drily. "M. Van Aldin, if I may say so, behaved
exceedingly foolishly."
"I am glad you take that view of the matter," said the secretary. "Now
I am going to tell you something, M. Poirot. So strongly did I feel the
unwisdom of Mr. Van Aldin's attitude that I went down privately and had
an interview with the lady."
"_Eh bien?_"
"The difficulty was that she insisted on seeing Mr. Van Aldin himself.
I softened his message as much as I possibly could. In fact--to be
candid--I gave it in a very different form. I said that Mr. Van Aldin
was too busy to see her at present, but that she might make any
communication she wished to me. That, however, she could not bring
herself to do, and she left without saying anything further. But I have
a strong impression, M. Poirot, that that woman knows something."
"This is serious," said Poirot quietly. "You know where she is staying?"
"Yes." Knighton mentioned the name of the hotel.
"Good," said Poirot; "we will go there immediately."
The secretary looked doubtful.
"And Mr. Van Aldin?" he queried doubtfully.
"M. Van Aldin is an obstinate man," said Poirot drily. "I do not argue
with obstinate men. I act in spite of them. We will go and see the lady
immediately. I will tell her that you are empowered by M. Van Aldin to
act for him, and you will guard yourself well from contradicting me."
Knighton still looked slightly doubtful, but Poirot took no notice of
his hesitation.
At the hotel, they were told that Mademoiselle was in, and Poirot sent
up both his and Knighton's cards, with "From Mr. Van Aldin" pencilled
upon them.