"I—I don't know, Dad. How should I?"
"Of course you know," said Van Aldin. "He said something else, about his having his friends and not interfering with yours. What did he mean by that?"
"I don't know," said Ruth Kettering again.
Van Aldin sat down. His mouth set itself in a grim line.
"See here, Ruth. I am not going into this with my eyes closed. I am not at all sure that that husband of yours doesn't mean to make trouble. Now, he can't do it, I am sure of that. I have got the means to silence him, to shut his mouth for good and all, but I have got to know if there's any need to use those means. What did he mean by your having your own friends?"
Mrs. Kettering shrugged her shoulders.
"I have got lots of friends," she said uncertainly. "I don't know what he meant, I am sure."
"You do," said Van Aldin.
He was speaking now as he might have spoken to a business adversary.
"I will put it plainer. Who is the man?"
"What man?"
"The man. That's what Derek was driving at. Some special man who is a friend of yours. You needn't worry, honey, I know there is nothing in it, but we have got to look at everything as it might appear to the Court. They can twist these things about a good deal, you know. I want to know who the man is, and just how friendly you have been with him."
Ruth didn’t answer. Her hands were kneading themselves together in intense nervous absorption.
"Come, honey," said Van Aldin in a softer voice.
