Free The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie

looked out of the window and watched a seemingly endless vista of depressing streets and suburban houses.
    Ruth found an increasing difficulty in fixing her mind on the printed page in front of her. In spite of herself, a thousand apprehensions preyed on her mind. What a fool she had been! What a fool she was! Like all cool and self-sufficient people, when she did lose her self-control she lost it thoroughly - it was too late... Was it too late? Oh, for someone to speak to, for someone to advise her. She had never before had such a wish; she would have scorned the idea of relying on any judgment other than her own, but now - what was the matter with her? Panic. Yes, that would describe it best - panic. She, Ruth Kettering, was completely and utterly panic stricken.
    She stole a covert glance at the figure opposite.
    If only she knew someone like that, some nice, cool, calm, sympathetic creature.
    That was the sort of person one could talk to. But you can't, of course, confide in a stranger. And Ruth smiled to herself a little at the idea. She picked up the magazine again. Really she must control herself. After all, she had thought all this out. She had decided of her own free will. What happiness had she ever had in her life up to now? She said to herself restlessly: “Why shouldn't I be happy? No one will ever know.”
    It seemed no time before Dover was reached. Ruth was a good sailor. She disliked the cold, and was glad to reach the shelter of the private cabin she had telegraphed for. Although she would not have admitted the fact, Ruth was in some ways superstitious. She was of the order of people to whom coincidence appeals. After disembarking at Calais and settling herself down with her maid in her double compartment in the Blue Train, she went along to the luncheon car.
    It was with a little shock of surprise that she found herself set down to a small table with, opposite her, the same woman who had been her vis-а-vis in the Pullman. A faint smile came to the lips of both women.
    “This is quite a coincidence,” said Mrs Kettering.
    “I know,” said Katherine, “it is odd the way things happen.”
    A flying attendant shot up to them with the wonderful velocity always displayed by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits and deposited two cups of soup. By the time the omelette succeeded the soup they were chatting together in friendly fashion.
    “It will be heavenly to get into the sunshine,” sighed Ruth.
    “I am sure it will be a wonderful feeling.”
    “You know the Riviera well?”
    “No; this is my first visit.”
    “Fancy that.”
    “You go every year, I expect?”
    “Practically. January and February in London are horrible.”
    “I have always lived in the country. They are not very inspiring months there either. Mostly mud.”
    “What made you suddenly decide to travel?”
    “Money,” said Katherine. “For ten years I have been a paid companion with just enough money of my own to buy myself strong country shoes; now I have been left what seems to me a fortune, though I dare say it would not seem so to you.”
    “Now I wonder why you say that - that it would not seem so to me.”
    Katherine laughed. “I don't really know. I suppose one forms impressions without thinking of it. I put you down in my own mind as one of the very rich of the earth. It was just an impression. I dare say I am wrong.”
    “No,” said Ruth, “you are not wrong.”
    She had suddenly become very grave. “I wish you would tell me what other impressions you formed about me?”
    “I -”
    Ruth swept on disregarding the other's embarrassment.
    “Oh, please, don't be conventional. I want to know. As we left Victoria I looked across at you, and I had the sort of feeling that you - well, understood what was going on in my mind.”
    “I can assure you I am not a mind reader,” said Katherine, smiling.
    “No; but will you tell me, please, just what you thought.” Ruth's eagerness was so intense and so sincere that