The mystery of the Blue Train
height and build were not unlike. But as they came face to face, he saw
that the man was a stranger to him. At least--no, not a stranger; his
face awoke some call of recognition in the millionaire's mind, and it
was associated definitely with something unpleasant. He cudgelled his
brains in vain, but the thing eluded him. He went on, shaking his head
irritably. He hated to be baffled.
Ruth Kettering was clearly expecting him. She ran to him and kissed him
when he entered.
"Well, Dad, how are things going?"
"Very well," said Van Aldin; "but I have got a word or two to say to
you, Ruth."
Almost insensibly he felt the change in her; something shrewd and
watchful replaced the impulsiveness of her greeting. She sat down in a
big arm-chair.
"Well, Dad?" she asked. "What is it?"
"I saw your husband this morning," said Van Aldin.
"You saw Derek?"
"I did. He said a lot of things, most of which were darned cheek. Just
as he was leaving, he said something that I didn't understand. He
advised me to be sure that there was perfect frankness between father
and daughter. What did he mean by that, Ruthie?"
Mrs. Kettering moved a little in her chair.
"I--I don't know, Dad. How should I?"
"Of course you know," said Van Aldin. "He said something else, about
his having his friends and not interfering with yours. What did he mean
by that?"
"I don't know," said Ruth Kettering again.
Van Aldin sat down. His mouth set itself in a grim line.
"See here, Ruth. I am not going into this with my eyes closed. I am not
at all sure that that husband of yours doesn't mean to make trouble.
Now, he can't do it, I am sure of that. I have got the means to silence
him, to shut his mouth for good and all, but I have got to know if
there's any need to use those means. What did he mean by your having
your own friends?"
Mrs. Kettering shrugged her shoulders.
"I have got lots of friends," she said uncertainly. "I don't know what
he meant, I am sure."
"You do," said Van Aldin.
He was speaking now as he might have spoken to a business adversary.
"I will put it plainer. Who is the man?"
"What man?"
"_The_ man. That's what Derek was driving at. Some special man who is
a friend of yours. You needn't worry, honey, I know there is nothing
in it, but we have got to look at everything as it might appear to the
Court. They can twist these things about a good deal, you know. I want
to know who the man is, and just how friendly you have been with him."
Ruth didn't answer. Her hands were kneading themselves together in
intense nervous absorption.
"Come, honey," said Van Aldin in a softer voice. "Don't be afraid of
your old Dad. I was not too harsh, was I, even that time in Paris?--By
gosh!"
He stopped, thunderstruck.
"That's who it was," he murmured to himself. "I thought I knew his
face."
"What are you talking about, Dad? I don't understand."
The millionaire strode across to her and took her firmly by the wrist.
"See here, Ruth, have you been seeing that fellow again?"
"What fellow?"
"The one we had all that fuss about years ago. You know who I mean well
enough."
"You mean"--she hesitated--"you mean the Comte de la Roche?"
"Comte de la Roche!" snorted Van Aldin. "I told you at the time that
the man was no better than a swindler. You had entangled yourself with
him then very deeply, but I got you out of his clutches."
"Yes, you did," said Ruth bitterly. "And I married Derek Kettering."
"You wanted to," said the millionaire sharply.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"And now," said Van Aldin slowly, "you have been seeing him
again--after all I told you. He has been in the house to-day. I met him
outside, and couldn't place him for the moment."
Ruth Kettering had recovered her composure.
"I want to tell you one thing, Dad; you are wrong about Armand--the
Comte de la Roche, I mean. Oh, I know there were several regrettable
incidents in his youth--he has told me about them; but--well, he has
cared for me always. It broke his heart when you parted us in Paris,
and now--"
She was interrupted by the snort of indignation her father gave.
"So you fell for that stuff, did you? You, a daughter of mine! My God!"
He threw up his hands.
"That women can be such darned fools!"
6. Mirelle
Derek Kettering emerged from Van Aldin's suite so precipitantly that he
collided with a lady passing across the corridor. He apologized, and
she accepted his apologies with a smiling reassurance and passed on,
leaving with him a pleasant impression of a soothing personality and
rather fine grey eyes.
For all his nonchalance, his interview with his father-in-law had
shaken him more than he cared to show. He had a solitary lunch, and
after it, frowning to himself a little, he went around to the sumptuous
flat that housed the lady known as Mirelle. A trim Frenchwoman received
him with smiles.
"But enter then, Monsieur. Madame reposes herself."
He was ushered into the long room with its Eastern setting which
he knew so well. Mirelle was lying on the divan, supported by an
incredible number of cushions, all in varying shades of amber, to
harmonize with the yellow ochre of her complexion. The dancer was a
beautifully made woman, and if her face, beneath its mask of yellow,
was in truth somewhat haggard, it had a bizarre charm of its own, and
her orange lips smiled invitingly at Derek Kettering.
He kissed her, and flung himself into a chair.
"What have you been doing with yourself? Just got up, I suppose?"
The orange mouth widened into a long smile.
"No," said the dancer. "I have been at work."
She flung out a long, pale hand towards the piano, which was littered
with untidy music scores.
"Ambrose has been here. He has been playing me the new Opera."
Kettering nodded without paying much attention. He was profoundly
uninterested in Claud Ambrose and the latter's operatic setting of
Ibsen's _Peer Gynt_. So was Mirelle, for that matter, regarding it
merely as a unique opportunity for her own presentation as Anitra.
"It is a marvellous dance," she murmured. "I shall put all the passion
of the desert into it. I shall dance hung over with jewels--ah! and,
by the way, _mon ami_, there is a pearl that I saw yesterday in Bond
Street--a black pearl."
She paused, looking at him invitingly.
"My dear girl," said Kettering, "it's no use talking of black pearls to
me. At the present minute, as far as I am concerned, the fat is in the
fire."
She was quick to respond to his tone. She sat up, her big black eyes
widening.
"What is that you say, Dereek? What has happened?"
"My esteemed father-in-law," said Kettering, "is preparing to go off
the deep-end."
"Eh?"
"In other words, he wants Ruth to divorce me."
"How stupid!" said Mirelle. "Why should she want to divorce you?"
Derek Kettering grinned.
"Mainly because of you, _chérie_!" he said.
Mirelle shrugged her shoulders.
"That is foolish," she observed in a matter-of-fact voice.
"Very foolish," agreed Derek.
"What are you going to do about it?" demanded Mirelle.
"My dear girl, what can I do? On the one side, the man with unlimited
money; on the other side, the man with unlimited debts. There is no
question as to who will come out on top."
"They are extraordinary, these Americans," commented Mirelle. "It is
not as though your wife were fond of you."
"Well," said Derek, "what are we going to do about it?"
She looked at him inquiringly. He came over and took both her hands in
his.
"Are you going to stick to me?"
"What do you mean? After--"
"Yes," said Kettering. "After, when the creditors come down like wolves
on the fold. I am damned fond of you, Mirelle; are you going to let me
down?"
She pulled her hands away from him.
"You know I adore you, Dereek."
He caught the note of evasion in her voice.
"So that's that, is it? The rats will leave the sinking ship."
"Ah, Dereek!"
"Out with it," he said violently. "You will fling me over; is that it?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I am fond of you, _mon ami_--indeed I am fond of you. You are very
charming--_un beau garçon_, but _ce n'est pas pratique_."
"You are a rich man's luxury, eh? Is that it?"
"If you like to put it that way."
She leaned back on the cushions, her head flung back.
"All the same, I am fond of you, Dereek."
He went over to the window and stood there some time looking out, with
his back to her. Presently the dancer raised herself on her elbow and
stared at him curiously.
"What are you thinking of, _mon ami_?"
He grinned at her over his shoulder, a curious grin, that made her
vaguely uneasy.
"As it happened, I was thinking of a woman, my dear."
"A woman, eh?"
Mirelle pounced on something that she could understand.
"You are thinking of some other woman, is that it?"
"Oh, you needn't worry; it is purely a fancy portrait. 'Portrait of a
lady with grey eyes.'"
Mirelle said sharply, "When did you meet her?"
Derek Kettering laughed, and his laughter had a mocking, ironical sound.
"I ran into the lady in the corridor of the Savoy Hotel."
"Well! What did she say?"
"As far as I can remember, I said, 'I beg your pardon,' and she said,
'It doesn't matter,' or words to that effect."
"And then?" persisted the dancer.
Kettering shrugged his shoulders.
"And then--nothing. That was the end of the incident."
"I don't understand a word of what you are talking about," declared the
dancer.
"Portrait of a lady with grey eyes," murmured Derek reflectively. "Just
as well I am never likely to meet her again."
"Why?"
"She might bring me bad luck. Women do."
Mirelle slipped quickly from her couch, and came across to him, laying
one long, snake-like arm round his neck.
"You are foolish, Dereek," she murmured. "You are very foolish. You
are _beau garçon_, and I adore you, but I am not made to be poor--no,
decidedly I am not made to be poor. Now listen to me; everything is
very simple. You must make it up with your wife."
"I am afraid that's not going to be actually in the sphere of practical
politics," said Derek drily.
"How do you say? I do not understand."
"Van Aldin, my dear, is not taking any. He is the kind of man who makes
up his mind and sticks to it."
"I have heard of him," nodded the dancer. "He is very rich, is he not?
Almost the richest man in America. A few days ago, in Paris, he bought
the most wonderful ruby in the world--'Heart of Fire' it is called."
Kettering did not answer. The dancer went on musingly:
"It is a wonderful stone--a stone that should belong to a woman like
me. I love jewels, Dereek; they say something to me. Ah! to wear a ruby
like 'Heart of Fire.'"
She gave a little sigh, and then became practical once more.
"You don't understand these things, Dereek; you are only a man. Van
Aldin will give these rubies to his daughter, I suppose. Is she his
only child?"
"Yes."
"Then when he dies, she will inherit all his money. She will be a rich
woman."
"She is a rich woman already," said Kettering drily. "He settled a
couple of millions on her at her marriage."
"A couple of millions! But that is immense. And if she died suddenly,
eh? That would all come to you?"
"As things stand at present," said Kettering slowly, "it would. As far
as I know she has not made a will."
"_Mon Dieu!_" said the dancer. "If she were to die, what a solution
that would be."
There was a moment's pause, and then Derek Kettering laughed outright.
"I like your simple, practical mind, Mirelle, but I am afraid what you
desire won't come to pass. My wife is an extremely healthy person."
"_Eh, bien!_" said Mirelle; "there are accidents."
He looked at her sharply but did not answer.
She went on.