"Yes?"
He got up and stood looking down at her. Then he spoke, in a low, distinct voice:
"You could, perhaps, love a thief, Mademoiselle, _but not a murderer_."
He wheeled sharply away on that and left her sitting there.
He heard the little gasp she gave and paid no attention. He had said what he meant to say. He left her there to digest that last unmistakable phrase.
Derek Kettering, coming out of the Casino into the sunshine, saw her sitting alone on the bench and joined her.
"I have been gambling," he said, with a light laugh, "gambling unsuccessfully. I have lost everything--everything, that is, that I have with me."
Katherine looked at him with a troubled face. She was aware at once of something new in his manner, some hidden excitement that betrayed itself in a hundred different infinitesimal signs.
"I should think you were always a gambler. The spirit of gambling appeals to you."
"Every day and in every way a gambler? You are about right. Don't _you_ find something stimulating in it? To risk all on one throw--there is nothing like it."
Calm and stolid as she believed herself to be, Katherine felt a faint answering thrill.
"I want to talk to you," went on Derek, "and who knows when I may have another opportunity? There is an idea going about that I murdered my wife--no, please don't interrupt. It is absurd, of course." He paused for a minute or two, then went on, speaking more deliberately. "In dealing with the police and Local Authorities here I have had to pretend to--well--a certain decency. I prefer not to pretend with you. I meant to marry money. I was on the lookout for money when I first met Ruth Van Aldin. She had the look of a slim Madonna about her, and I--well--I made all sorts of good resolutions--and was bitterly disillusioned. My wife was in love with another man when she married me. She never cared for me in the least. Oh, I am not complaining; the thing was a perfectly respectable bargain. She wanted Leconbury and I wanted money. The trouble arose simply through Ruth's American blood. Without caring a pin for me, she would have liked me to be continually dancing attendance. Time and again she as good as told me that she had bought me and that I belonged to her. The result was that I behaved abominably to her. My father-in-law will tell you that, and he is quite right. At the time of Ruth's death, I was faced with absolute disaster." He laughed suddenly. "One _is_ faced with absolute disaster when one is up against a man like Rufus Van Aldin."
"And then?" asked Katherine in a low voice.
"And then," Derek shrugged his shoulders, "Ruth was murdered--very providentially."
He laughed, and the sound of his laugh hurt Katherine. She winced.
"Yes," said Derek, "that wasn't in very good taste. But it is quite true. Now I am going to tell you something more. From the very first moment I saw you I knew you were the only woman in the world for me. I was--afraid of you. I thought you might bring me bad luck."
"Bad luck?" said Katherine sharply.
He stared at her. "Why do you repeat it like that? What have you got in your mind?"
"I was thinking of things that people have said to me."
Derek grinned suddenly. "They will say a lot to you about me, my dear, and most of it will be true. Yes, and worse things too--things that I shall never tell you. I have been a gambler always--and I have taken some long odds. I shan't confess to you now or at any other time. The past is done with. There is one thing I do wish you to believe. I swear to you solemnly that I did not kill my wife."
He said the words earnestly enough, yet there was somehow a theatrical touch about them. He met her troubled gaze and went on:
"I know. I lied the other day. It _was_ my wife's compartment I went into."
"Ah," said Katherine.
"It's difficult to explain just why I went in, but I'll try. I did it on an impulse. You see, I was more or less spying on my wife. I kept out of sight on the train. Mirelle had told me that my wife was meeting the Comte de la Roche in Paris. Well, as far as I had seen, that was not so. I felt ashamed, and I thought suddenly that it would be a good thing to have it out with her once and for all, so I pushed open the door and went in."
He paused.
"Yes," said Katherine gently.
"Ruth was lying on the bunk asleep--her face was turned away from me--I could see only the back of her head. I could have waked her up, of course. But suddenly I felt a reaction. What, after all, was there to say that we hadn't both of us said a hundred times before? She looked so peaceful lying there. I left the compartment as quietly as I could."
"Why lie about it to the police?" asked Katherine.
"Because I'm not a complete fool. I've realized from the beginning that, from the point of view of motive, I'm the ideal murderer. If I once admitted that I had been in her compartment just before she was murdered, I'd do for myself once and for all."
"I see."
Did she see? She could not have told herself. She was feeling the magnetic attraction of Derek's personality, but there was something in her that resisted, that held back....
"Katherine--"
"I--"
"You know that I care for you. Do--do you care for me?"
"I--I don't know."
Weakness there. Either she knew or she did not know. If--if only--
She cast a look round desperately as though seeking something that would help her. A soft colour rose in her cheeks as a tall fair man with a limp came hurrying along the path towards them--Major Knighton.
There was relief and an unexpected warmth in her voice as she greeted him.
Derek stood up scowling, his face black as a thundercloud.
"Lady Tamplin having a flutter?" he said easily. "I must join her and give her the benefit of my system."
He swung round on his heel and left them together. Katherine sat down again. Her heart was beating rapidly and unevenly, but as she sat there talking commonplaces to the quiet, rather shy man beside her, her self-command came back.
Then she realized with a shock that Knighton also was laying bare his heart, much as Derek had done, but in a very different manner.
He was shy and stammering. The words came haltingly with no eloquence to back them.
"From the first moment I saw you--I--I ought not to have spoken so soon--but Mr. Van Aldin may leave here any day, and I might not have another chance. I know you can't care for me so soon--that is impossible. I dare say it is presumption anyway on my part. I have private means, but not very much--no, please don't answer now. I know what your answer would be. But in case I went away suddenly I just wanted you to know--that I care."
She was shaken--touched. His manner was so gentle and appealing.
"There's one thing more. I just wanted to say that if--if you are ever in trouble, anything that I can do--"
He took her hand in his, held it tightly for a minute, then dropped it and walked rapidly away towards the Casino without looking back.
Katherine sat perfectly still, looking after him. Derek Kettering--Richard Knighton--two men so different--so very different. There was something kind about Knighton, kind and trustworthy. As to Derek--
Then suddenly Katherine had a very curious sensation. She felt that she was no longer sitting alone on the seat in the Casino gardens, but that some one was standing beside her, and that that some one was the dead woman, Ruth Kettering. She had a further impression that Ruth wanted--badly--to tell her something. The impression was so curious, so vivid, that it could not be driven away. She felt absolutely certain that the spirit of Ruth Kettering was trying to convey something of vital importance to her. The impression faded. Katherine got up, trembling a little. What was it that Ruth Kettering had wanted so badly to say?
27. Interview with Mirelle
When Knighton left Katherine he went in search of Hercule Poirot, whom he found in the Rooms, jauntily placing the minimum stake on the even numbers. As Knighton joined him, the number thirty-three turned up, and Poirot's stake was swept away.
"Bad luck!" said Knighton; "are you going to stake again?"
Poirot shook his head.
"Not at present."
"Do you feel the fascination of gambling?" asked Knighton curiously.
"Not at roulette."
Knighton shot a swift glance at him. His own face became troubled. He spoke haltingly, with a touch of deference.
"I wonder, are you busy, M. Poirot? There is something I would like to ask you about."
"I am at your disposal. Shall we go outside? It is pleasant in the sunshine."
They strolled out together, and Knighton drew a deep breath.
"I love the Riviera," he said. "I came here first twelve years ago, during the War, when I was sent to Lady Tamplin's Hospital. It was like Paradise, coming from Flanders to this."
"It must have been," said Poirot.
"How long ago the War seems now!" mused Knighton.
They walked on in silence for some little way.
"You have something on your mind?" said Poirot.
Knighton looked at him in some surprise.
"You are quite right," he confessed. "I don't know how you knew it, though."
"It showed itself only too plainly," said Poirot drily.