The Mystery of the Blue Train - Agatha Christie [7]
“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.
“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 tomorrow 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 tomorrow morning. Better make it latish, about twelve. His sort aren’t early risers.”
The secretary nodded in comprehension of these instructions. Van Aldin gave himself into the hands of this valet. His bath was prepared, and as he lay luxuriating in the hot water,