The Mystery of the Blue Train. Agatha Christie
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‘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 durned soft-hearted 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, well, 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 about all 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 tomorrow, 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.