Everybody looked respectfully at Poirot. Undoubtedly the little man had
scored heavily. The Commissary laughed--on a rather hollow note.
"You teach us all our business," he cried. "M. Poirot knows more than
the police."
Poirot gazed complacently at the ceiling, adopting a mock-modest air.
"What will you; it is my little hobby," he murmured, "to know things.
Naturally I have the time to indulge it. I am not overburdened with
affairs."
"Ah!" said the Commissary shaking his head portentously. "As for me--"
He made an exaggerated gesture to represent the cares that lay on his
shoulders.
Poirot turned suddenly to Van Aldin.
"You agree, Monsieur, with this view? You feel certain that the Comte
de la Roche is the murderer?"
"Why, it would seem so--yes, certainly."
Something guarded in the answer made the Examining Magistrate look at
the American curiously. Van Aldin seemed aware of his scrutiny and made
an effort as though to shake off some preoccupation.
"What about my son-in-law?" he asked. "You have acquainted him with the
news? He is in Nice, I understand."
"Certainly, Monsieur." The Commissary hesitated, and then murmured very
discreetly: "You are doubtless aware, M. Van Aldin, that M. Kettering
was also one of the passengers on the Blue Train that night?"
The millionaire nodded.
"Heard it just before I left London," he vouchsafed laconically.
"He tells us," continued the Commissary, "that he had no idea his wife
was travelling on the train."
"I bet he hadn't," said Van Aldin grimly. "It would have been rather a
nasty shock to him if he'd come across her on it."
The three men looked at him questioningly.
"I'm not going to mince matters," said Van Aldin savagely. "No one
knows what my poor girl has had to put up with. Derek Kettering wasn't
alone. He had a lady with him."
"Ah?"
"Mirelle--the dancer."
M. Carrège and the Commissary looked at each other and nodded as though
confirming some previous conversation. M. Carrège leaned back in his
chair, joined his hands, and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.
"Ah!" he murmured again. "One wondered." He coughed. "One has heard
rumours."
"The lady," said M. Caux, "is very notorious."
"And also," murmured Poirot softly, "very expensive."
Van Aldin had gone very red in the face. He leant forward and hit the
table a bang with his fist.
"See here," he cried, "my son-in-law is a damned scoundrel!"
He glared at them, looking from one face to another.
"Oh, I know," he went on. "Good looks and a charming, easy manner.
It took me in once upon a time. I suppose he pretended to be
broken-hearted when you broke the news to him--that is, if he didn't
know it already."
"Oh, it came as a complete surprise to him. He was overwhelmed."
"Darned young hypocrite," said Van Aldin. "Simulated great grief, I
suppose?"
"N--no," said the Commissary cautiously. "I would not quite say
that--eh, M. Carrège?"
The Magistrate brought the tips of his fingers together, and half
closed his eyes.
"Shock, bewilderment, horror--these things, yes," he declared
judicially. "Great sorrow--no--I should not say that."
Hercule Poirot spoke once more.
"Permit me to ask, M. Van Aldin, does M. Kettering benefit by the death
of his wife?"
"He benefits to the tune of a couple of millions," said Van Aldin.
"Dollars?"
"Pounds. I settled that sum on Ruth absolutely on her marriage. She
made no will and leaves no children, so the money will go to her
husband."
"Whom she was on the point of divorcing," murmured Poirot. "Ah,
yes--_précisément_."
The Commissary turned and looked sharply at him.
"Do you mean--" he began.
"I mean nothing," said Poirot. "I arrange the facts, that is all."
Van Aldin stared at him with awakening interest.
The little man rose to his feet.
"I do not think I can be of any further service to you, M. le Juge," he
said politely, bowing to M. Carrège. "You will keep me informed of the
course of events? It will be a kindness."
"But certainly--most certainly."
Van Aldin rose also.
"You don't want me any more at present?"
"No, Monsieur; we have all the information we need for the moment."
"Then I will walk a little way with M. Poirot. That is, if he does not
object?"
"Enchanted, Monsieur," said the little man, with a bow.
Van Aldin lighted a large cigar, having first offered one to Poirot,
who declined it and lit one of his own tiny cigarettes. A man of great
strength of character, Van Aldin already appeared to be his everyday,
normal self once more. After strolling along for a minute or two in
silence, the millionaire spoke:
"I take it, M. Poirot, that you no longer exercise your profession?"
"That is so, Monsieur. I enjoy the world."
"Yet you are assisting the police in this affair?"
"Monsieur, if a doctor walks along the street and an accident happens,
does he say, 'I have retired from my profession, I will continue my
walk,' when there is some one bleeding to death at his feet? If I
had been already in Nice, and the police had sent to me and asked me
to assist them, I should have refused. But this affair, the good God
thrust it upon me."
"You were on the spot," said Van Aldin thoughtfully. "You examined the
compartment, did you not?"
Poirot nodded.
"Doubtless you found things that were, shall we say, suggestive to you?"
"Perhaps," said Poirot.
"I hope you see what I am leading up to?" said Van Aldin. "It seems to
me that the case against this Comte de la Roche is perfectly clear, but
I am not a fool. I have been watching you for this last hour or so, and
I realize that for some reason of your own you don't agree with that
theory?"
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"I may be wrong."
"So we come to the favour I want to ask you. Will you act in this
matter for me?"
"For you personally?"
"That was my meaning."
Poirot was silent for a moment or two. Then he said:
"You realize what you are asking?"
"I guess so," said Van Aldin.
"Very well," said Poirot. "I accept. But in that case, I must have
frank answers to my questions."
"Why, certainly. That is understood."
Poirot's manner changed. He became suddenly brusque and business-like.
"This question of a divorce," he said. "It was you who advised your
daughter to bring the suit?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"About ten days ago. I had had a letter from her complaining of her
husband's behaviour, and I put it to her very strongly that divorce was
the only remedy."
"In what way did she complain of his behaviour?"
"He was being seen about with a _very_ notorious lady--the one we have
been speaking of--Mirelle."
"The dancer. Ah-ha! And Madame Kettering objected? Was she very devoted
to her husband?"
"I would not say that," said Van Aldin, hesitating a little.
"It was not her heart that suffered, it was her pride--is that what you
would say?"
"Yes, I suppose you might put it like that."
"I gather that the marriage had not been a happy one from the
beginning?"
"Derek Kettering is rotten to the core," said Van Aldin. "He is
incapable of making any woman happy."
"He is, as you say in England, a bad lot. That is right, is it not?"
Van Aldin nodded.
"_Très bien!_ You advise Madame to seek a divorce, she agrees; you
consult your solicitors. When does M. Kettering get news of what is in
the wind?"
"I sent for him myself, and explained the course of action I proposed
to take."
"And what did he say?" murmured Poirot softly.
Van Aldin's face darkened at the remembrance.
"He was infernally impudent."
"Excuse the question, Monsieur, but did he refer to the Comte de la
Roche?"
"Not by name," growled the other unwillingly, "but he showed himself
cognizant of the affair."
"What, if I may ask, was M. Kettering's financial position at the time?"
"How do you suppose I should know that?" asked Van Aldin, after a very
brief hesitation.
"It seemed likely to me that you would inform yourself on that point."
"Well--you are quite right, I did. I discovered that Kettering was on
the rocks."
"And now he has inherited two million pounds! _La vie_--it is a strange
thing, is it not?"
Van Aldin looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"I moralize," said Poirot. "I reflect, I speak the philosophy. But to
return to where we were. Surely M. Kettering did not propose to allow
himself to be divorced without making a fight for it?"
Van Aldin did not answer for a minute or two, then he said:
"I don't exactly know what his intentions were."
"Did you hold any further communications with him?"
Again a slight pause, then Van Aldin said:
"No."
Poirot stopped dead, took off his hat, and held out his hand.
"I must wish you good-day, Monsieur. I can do nothing for you."
"What are you getting at?" demanded Van Aldin angrily.
"If you do not tell me the truth, I can do nothing."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do. You may rest assured, M. Van Aldin, that I know how to
be discreet."
"Very well, then," said the millionaire. "I'll admit that I was not
speaking the truth just now. I _did_ have further communication with my
son-in-law."
"Yes?"
"To be exact, I sent my secretary, Major Knighton, to see him, with
instructions to offer him the sum of one hundred thousand pounds in
cash if the divorce went through undefended."
"A pretty sum of money," said Poirot appreciatively; "and the answer of
Monsieur your son-in-law?"
"He sent back word that I could go to hell," replied the millionaire
succinctly.
"Ah!" said Poirot.
He betrayed no emotion of any kind. At the moment he was engaged in
methodically recording facts.
"Monsieur Kettering has told the police that he neither saw nor spoke
to his wife on the journey from England. Are you inclined to believe
that statement, Monsieur?"
"Yes, I am," said Van Aldin. "He would take particular pains to keep
out of her way, I should say."
"Why?"
"Because he had got that woman with him."
"Mirelle?"
"Yes."
"How did you come to know that fact?"
"A man of mine, whom I had put on to watch him, reported to me that
they had both left by that train."
"I see," said Poirot. "In that case, as you said before, he would not
be likely to attempt to hold any communication with Madame Kettering."
The little man fell silent for some time. Van Aldin did not interrupt
his meditation.