The Mystery of the Blue Train. Agatha Christie

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       CHAPTER 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 anyone 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 washout. 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, everyone 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 СКАЧАТЬ