The mystery of the Blue Train
He tossed off the wrapping and disclosed a big, shabby, red velvet
case. In the centre of it were some twisted initials surmounted by a
crown. He snapped the case open, and the secretary drew in his breath
sharply. Against the slightly dingy white of the interior, the stones
glowed like blood.
"My God! sir," said Knighton. "Are they--are they real?"
Van Aldin laughed a quiet little cackle of amusement.
"I don't wonder at your asking that. Amongst these rubies are the three
largest in the world. Catherine of Russia wore them, Knighton. That
centre one there is known as Heart of Fire. It's perfect--not a flaw in
it."
"But," the secretary murmured, "they must be worth a fortune."
"Four or five hundred thousand dollars," said Van Aldin nonchalantly,
"and that is apart from the historical interest."
"And you carry them about--like that, loose in your pocket?"
Van Aldin laughed amusedly.
"I guess so. You see, they are my little present for Ruthie."
The secretary smiled discreetly.
"I can understand now Mrs. Kettering's anxiety over the telephone," he
murmured.
But Van Aldin shook his head. The hard look returned to his face.
"You are wrong there," he said. "She doesn't know about these; they are
my little surprise for her."
He shut the case, and began slowly to wrap it up again.
"It's a hard thing, Knighton," he said, "how little one can do for
those one loves. I can buy a good portion of the earth for Ruth, if it
would be any use to her, but it isn't. I can hang these things round
her neck and give her a moment or two's pleasure, maybe, but--"
He shook his head.
"When a woman is not happy in her home--"
He left the sentence unfinished. The secretary nodded discreetly. He
knew, none better, the reputation of the Hon. Derek Kettering. Van
Aldin sighed. Slipping the parcel back in his coat pocket, he nodded to
Knighton and left the room.
4. In Curzon Street
The Hon. Mrs. Derek Kettering lived in Curzon Street. The butler who
opened the door recognized Rufus Van Aldin at once and permitted
himself a discreet smile of greeting. He led the way upstairs to the
big double drawing-room on the first floor.
A woman who was sitting by the window started up with a cry.
"Why, Dad, if that isn't too good for anything! I've been telephoning
Major Knighton all day to try and get hold of you, but he couldn't say
for sure when you were expected back."
Ruth Kettering was twenty-eight years of age. Without being beautiful,
or in the real sense of the word even pretty, she was striking looking
because of her colouring. Van Aldin had been called Carrots and Ginger
in his time, and Ruth's hair was almost pure auburn. With it went dark
eyes and very black lashes--the effect somewhat enhanced by art. She
was tall and slender, and moved well. At a careless glance it was the
face of a Raphael Madonna. Only if one looked closely did one perceive
the same line of jaw and chin as in Van Aldin's face, bespeaking the
same hardness and determination. It suited the man, but suited the
woman less well. From her childhood upward Ruth Van Aldin had been
accustomed to having her own way, and any one who had ever stood up
against her soon realized that Rufus Van Aldin's daughter never gave in.
"Knighton told me you'd 'phoned him," said Van Aldin. "I only got back
from Paris half an hour ago. What's all this about Derek?"
Ruth Kettering flushed angrily.
"It's unspeakable. It's beyond all limits," she cried. "He--he doesn't
seem to listen to anything I say."
There was bewilderment as well as anger in her voice.
"He'll listen to me," said the millionaire grimly.
Ruth went on.
"I've hardly seen him for the last month. He goes about everywhere with
that woman."
"With what woman?"
"Mirelle. She dances at the Parthenon, you know."
Van Aldin nodded.
"I was down at Leconbury last week. I--I spoke to Lord Leconbury. He
was awfully sweet to me, sympathized entirely. He said he'd give Derek
a good talking to."
"Ah!" said Van Aldin.
"What do you mean by 'Ah!', Dad?"
"Just what you think I mean, Ruthie. Poor old Leconbury is a wash-out.
Of course he sympathized with you, of course he tried to soothe you
down. Having got his son and heir married to the daughter of one of the
richest men in the States, he naturally doesn't want to mess the thing
up. But he's got one foot in the grave already, every one knows that,
and anything he may say will cut darned little ice with Derek."
"Can't _you_ do anything, Dad?" urged Ruth, after a minute or two.
"I might," said the millionaire. He waited a second reflectively, and
then went on. "There are several things I might do, but there's only
one that will be any real good. How much pluck have you got, Ruthie?"
She stared at him. He nodded back at her.
"I mean just what I say. Have you got the grit to admit to all the
world that you've made a mistake? There's only one way out of this
mess, Ruthie. Cut your losses and start afresh."
"You mean--"
"Divorce."
"Divorce!"
Van Aldin smiled drily.
"You say that word, Ruth, as though you'd never heard it before. And
yet your friends are doing it all round you every day."
"Oh! I know that. But--"
She stopped, biting her lip. Her father nodded comprehendingly.
"I know, Ruth. You're like me, you can't bear to let go. But I've
learnt, and you've got to learn, that there are times when it's the
only way. I might find ways of whistling Derek back to you, but it
would all come to the same in the end. _He's no good_, Ruth; he's
rotten through and through. And mind you, I blame myself for ever
letting you marry him. But you were kind of set on having him, and he
seemed in earnest about turning over a new leaf--and well, I'd crossed
you once, honey...."
He did not look at her as he said the last words. Had he done so, he
might have seen the swift colour that came up in her face.
"You did," she said in a hard voice.
"I was too darned softhearted to do it a second time. I can't tell you
how I wish I had, though. You've led a poor kind of life for the last
few years, Ruth."
"It has not been very--agreeable," agreed Mrs. Kettering.
"That's why I say to you that this thing has got to _stop_!" He brought
his hand down with a bang on the table. "You may have a hankering after
the fellow still. _Cut it out._ Face facts. Derek Kettering married you
for your money. That's all there is to it. Get rid of him, Ruth."
Ruth Kettering looked down at the ground for some moments, then she
said, without raising her head:
"Supposing he doesn't consent?"
Van Aldin looked at her in astonishment.
"He won't have a say in the matter."
She flushed and bit her lip.
"No--no--of course not. I only meant--"
She stopped. Her father eyed her keenly.
"What did you mean?"
"I meant--" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "He mayn't take
it lying down."
The millionaire's chin shot out grimly.
"You mean he'll fight the case? Let him! But, as a matter of fact,
you're wrong. He won't fight. Any solicitor he consults will tell him
he hasn't a leg to stand upon."
"You don't think"--she hesitated--"I mean--out of sheer spite against
me--he might, try to make it awkward?"
Her father looked at her in some astonishment.
"Fight the case, you mean?"
He shook his head.
"Very unlikely. You see, he would have to have something to go upon."
Mrs. Kettering did not answer. Van Aldin looked at her sharply.
"Come, Ruth, out with it. There's something troubling you--what is it?"
"Nothing, nothing at all."
But her voice was unconvincing.
"You are dreading the publicity, eh? Is that it? You leave it to me.
I'll put the whole thing through so smoothly that there will be no fuss
at all."
"Very well, Dad, if you really think it's the best thing to be done."
"Got a fancy for the fellow still, Ruth? Is that it?"
"No."
The word came with no uncertain emphasis. Van Aldin seemed satisfied.
He patted his daughter on the shoulder.
"It will be all right, little girl. Don't you worry any. Now let's
forget all about this. I have brought you a present from Paris."
"For me? Something very nice?"
"I hope you'll think so," said Van Aldin, smiling.
He took the parcel from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She
unwrapped it eagerly, and snapped open the case. A long-drawn "Oh!"
came from her lips. Ruth Kettering loved jewels--always had done so.
"Dad, how--how wonderful!"
"Rather in a class by themselves, aren't they?" said the millionaire,
with satisfaction. "You like them, eh?"
"Like them? Dad, they're unique. How did you get hold of them?"
Van Aldin smiled.
"Ah! that's my secret. They had to be bought privately, of course. They
are rather well known. See that big stone in the middle? You have heard
of it, maybe; that's the historic 'Heart of Fire.'"
"Heart of Fire!" repeated Mrs. Kettering.
She had taken the stones from the case and was holding them against
her breast. The millionaire watched her. He was thinking of the series
of women who had worn the jewels. The heartaches, the despairs, the
jealousies. "Heart of Fire," like all famous stones, had left behind
it a trail of tragedy and violence. Held in Ruth Kettering's assured
hand, it seemed to lose its potency of evil. With her cool, equable
poise, this woman of the western world seemed a negation to tragedy or
heart-burnings. Ruth returned the stones to their case; then, jumping
up, she flung her arms round her father's neck.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dad! They are wonderful! You do give
me the most marvellous presents always."
"That's all right," said Van Aldin, patting her shoulder. "You are all
I have, you know, Ruthie."
"You will stay to dinner, won't you, father?"
"I don't think so. You were going out, weren't you?"
"Yes, but I can easily put that off. Nothing very exciting."
"No," said Van Aldin. "Keep your engagement. I have got a good deal to
attend to. See you to-morrow, my dear. Perhaps if I 'phone you, we can
meet at Galbraiths'?"
Messrs. Galbraith, Galbraith, Cuthbertson, & Galbraith were Van Aldin's
London solicitors.
"Very well, Dad." She hesitated. "I suppose it--this--won't keep me
from going to the Riviera?"
"When are you off?"
"On the fourteenth."
"Oh, that will be all right. These things take a long time to mature.
By the way, Ruth, I shouldn't take those rubies abroad if I were you.
Leave them at the bank."
Mrs. Kettering nodded.
"We don't want to have you robbed and murdered for the sake of 'Heart
of Fire,'" said the millionaire jocosely.
"And yet you carried it about in your pocket loose," retorted his
daughter, smiling.
"Yes--"
Something, some hesitation, caught her attention.
"What is it, Dad?"
"Nothing." He smiled. "Thinking of a little adventure of mine in Paris."
"An adventure?"
"Yes, the night I bought these things."
He made a gesture towards the jewel case.
"Oh, do tell me."
"Nothing to tell, Ruthie. Some apache fellows got a bit fresh and I
shot at them and they got off. That's all."
She looked at him with some pride.
"You're a tough proposition, Dad."
"You bet I am, Ruthie."
He kissed her affectionately and departed. On arriving back at the
Savoy, he gave a curt order to Knighton.
"Get hold of a man called Goby; you'll find his address in my private
book. He's to be here to-morrow morning at half-past nine."
"Yes, sir."
"I also want to see Mr. Kettering. Run him to earth for me if you can.
Try his Club--at any rate, get hold of him somehow, and arrange for me
to see him here to-morrow morning. Better make it latish, about twelve.
His sort aren't early risers."
The secretary nodded in comprehension of these instructions. Van Aldin