“Oh, I see. Man or woman?”
“I think she said a man, sir.”
Van Aldin nodded. His worst fears were being realised. He rose from his chair, and began pacing up and down the room, a habit of his when agitated. Unable to contain his feelings any longer, he burst forth:
“There is one thing no man can do, and that is to get a woman to listen to reason. Somehow or other, they don’t seem to have any kind of sense . Talk of woman’s instinct—why, it is well known all the world over that a woman is the surest mark for any rascally swindler. Not one in ten of them knows a scoundrel when she meets one; they can be preyed on by any good-looking fellow with a soft side to his tongue. If I had my way—”
He was interrupted. A pageboy entered with a telegram. Van Aldin tore it open, and his face went a sudden chalky white. He caught hold of the back of a chair to steady himself, and waved the pageboy from the room.
“What’s the matter, sir?”
Knighton had risen in concern.
“Ruth!” said Van Aldin hoarsely.
“ Mrs. Kettering?”
“Killed!”
“An accident to the train?”
Van Aldin shook his head.
“No. From this it seems she has been robbed as well. They don’t use the word, Knighton, but my poor girl has been murdered.”