"You're a tough proposition, Dad."
"You bet I am, Ruthie."
He kissed her affectionately and departed. On arriving back at the Savoy, he gave a curt order to Knighton.
"Get hold of a man called Goby; you’ll find his address in my private book. He's to be here to-morrow morning at half-past nine."
"Yes, sir."
"I also want to see Mr. Kettering. Run him to earth for me if you can. Try his Club—at any rate, get hold of him somehow, and arrange for me to see him here to-morrow morning. Better make it latish, about twelve. His sort aren't early risers."
The secretary nodded in comprehension of these instructions. Van Aldin gave himself into the hands of his valet. His bath was prepared, and as he lay luxuriating in the hot water, his mind went back over the conversation with his daughter. On the whole he was well satisfied. His keen mind had long since accepted the fact that divorce was the only possible way out. Ruth had agreed to the proposed solution with more readiness than he had hoped for. Yet, in spite of her acquiescence, he was left with a vague sense of uneasiness. Something about her manner, he felt, had not been quite natural. He frowned to himself.
"Maybe I'm fanciful," he muttered, "and yet—I bet there's something she has not told me."
