The Mystery of the Blue Train Read Free Page A

Knighton smiled sympathetically.
    â€œMrs. Kettering?” he murmured. “She rang up yesterday and today. She seems very anxious to see you at once, sir.”
    â€œDoes she, now!”
    The smile faded from the millionaire’s face. He ripped open the envelope which he held in his hand and took out the enclosed sheet. As he read it his face darkened, his mouth set grimly in the line which Wall Street knew so well, and his brows knit themselves ominously. Knighton turned tactfully away, and went on opening letters and sorting them. A muttered oath escaped the millionaire, and his clenched fist hit the table sharply.
    â€œI’ll not stand for this,” he muttered to himself. “Poor little girl, it’s a good thing she has her old father behind her.”
    He walked up and down the room for some minutes, his brows drawn together in a scowl. Knighton still bent assiduously over the desk. Suddenly Van Aldin came to an abrupt halt. He took up his overcoat from the chair where he had thrown it.
    â€œAre you going out again, sir?”
    â€œYes, I’m going round to see my daughter.”
    â€œIf Colton’s people ring up—?”
    â€œTell them to go to the devil,” said Van Aldin.
    â€œVery well,” said the secretary unemotionally.
    Van Aldin had his overcoat on by now. Cramming his hat upon his head, he went towards the door. He paused with his hand upon the handle.
    â€œYou are a good fellow, Knighton,” he said. “You don’t worry me when I am rattled.”
    Knighton smiled a little, but made no reply.
    â€œRuth is my only child,” said Van Aldin, “and there is no one on this earth who knows quite what she means to me.”
    A faint smile irradiated his face. He slipped his hand into his pocket.
    â€œCare to see something, Knighton?”
    He came back towards the secretary.
    From his pocket he drew out a parcel carelessly wrapped in brown paper. 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.
    â€œMy God! sir,” said Knighton. “Are they—are they real?”
    Van Aldin laughed a quiet little cackle of amusement.
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œBut,” the secretary murmured, “they must be worth a fortune.”
    â€œFour or five hundred thousand dollars,” said Van Aldin nonchalantly, “and that is apart from the historical interest.”
    â€œAnd you carry them about—like that, loose in your pocket?”
    Van Aldin laughed amusedly.
    â€œI guess so. You see, they are my little present for Ruthie.”
    The secretary smiled discreetly.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œIt’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.
    â€œWhen 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