Free The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie

that Van Aldin knew something. Van Aldin did not pay for nothing. He got up and stood by the chimneypiece.
    â€œAnd in the event of my refusing his handsome offer?” he asked, with a cold, ironical politeness.
    Knighton made a deprecating gesture.
    â€œI can assure you, Mr. Kettering,” he said earnestly, “that it is with the utmost unwillingness that I came here with this message.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” said Kettering. “Don’t distress yourself; it’s not your fault. Now then—I asked you a question, will you answer it?”
    Knighton also rose. He spoke more reluctantly than before.
    â€œIn the event of your refusing this proposition,” he said, “Mr. Van Aldin wished me to tell you in plain words that he proposes to break you. Just that.”
    Kettering raised his eyebrows, but he retained his light, amused manner.
    â€œWell, well!” he said, “I suppose he can do it. I certainly should not be able to put up much of a fight against America’s man of many millions. A hundred thousand! If you are going to bribe a man there is nothing like doing it thoroughly. Supposing I were to tell you that for two hundred thousand I’d do what he wanted, what then?”
    â€œI would take your message back to Mr. Van Aldin,” said Knighton unemotionally. “Is that your answer?”
    â€œNo,” said Derek; “funnily enough it is not. You can go back to my father-in-law and tell him to take himself and his bribes to hell. Is that clear?”
    â€œPerfectly,” said Knighton. He got up, hesitated, and then flushed. “I—you will allow me to say, Mr. Kettering, that I am glad you have answered as you have.”
    Derek did not reply. When the other had left the room he remained for a minute or two lost in thought. A curious smile came to his lips.
    â€œAnd that is that,” he said softly.

Ten
    O N THE B LUE T RAIN

    â€œ D ad!”
    Mrs. Kettering started violently. Her nerves were not completely under control this morning. Very perfectly dressed in a long mink coat and a little hat of Chinese lacquer red, she had been walking along the crowded platform of Victoria deep in thought, and her father’s sudden appearance and hearty greeting had an unlooked -for effect upon her.
    â€œWhy, Ruth, how you jumped!”
    â€œI didn’t expect to see you, I suppose, Dad. You said good-bye to me last night and said you had a conference this morning.”
    â€œSo I have,” said Van Aldin, “but you are more to me than any number of darned conferences. I came to take a last look at you, since I am not going to see you for some time.”
    â€œThat is very sweet of you, Dad. I wish you were coming too.”
    â€œWhat would you say if I did?”
    The remark was merely a joking one. He was surprised to see the quick colour of flame in Ruth’s cheeks. For a moment he almost thought he saw dismay flash out of her eyes. She laughed uncertainly and nervously.
    â€œJust for a moment I really thought you meant it,” she said.
    â€œWould you have been pleased?”
    â€œOf course.” She spoke with exaggerated emphasis.
    â€œWell,” said Van Aldin, “that’s good.”
    â€œIt isn’t really for very long, Dad,” continued Ruth; “you know, you are coming out next month.”
    â€œAh!” said Van Aldin unemotionally, “sometimes I guess I will go to one of these big guys in Harley Street and have him tell me that I need sunshine and change of air right away.”
    â€œDon’t be so lazy,” cried Ruth; “next month is ever so much nicer than this month out there. You have got all sorts of things you can’t possibly leave just now.”
    â€œWell, that’s so, I suppose,” said Van Aldin, with a sigh. “You had better be getting on board this train of yours, Ruth. Where is your seat?”
    Ruth Kettering