Chapter VIII

FEATURING THREE MEN OF BUSINESS, AND SHOWING THAT LAWYERS HAVE
THEIR USES

After his interview with Superintendent Wilson at the Yard, Lord Ealing drove straight to the offices of the Anglo-Asiatic Corporation. Previously housed in dark and inconvenient, but extremely expensive, premises in Lombard Street, the Anglo-Asiatic had been one of the pioneers in the great trek of business houses from the City to the West End. Acquiring a magnificent site at the bottom of Kingsway, it had erected a palatial building, from which a huge electric sign flamed out at nights. A trifle on the flashy side, perhaps, like an overdressed adventurer parading too much jewellery, the offices of the Anglo-Asiatic at least left on the mind no doubt of that Corporation's estimate of its own importance. Lord Ealing, himself, when he thought of the great building, always had to suppress something of a shudder; it was certainly not beautiful, but he believed it to be an admirable advertisement. And it was actually cheaper than the dirty old place in Lombard Street to which he sometimes looked back with regret.

Lord Ealing was frowning as his sumptuous, smooth-gliding car bore him along the Strand. It was excessively annoying of that fellow Radlett to go and get himself killed at so inconvenient a time. They had conversed together so profitably the day before--a conversation which Lord Ealing had by no means reported in its entirety to the police. And now the fellow's death had upset the entire arrangement. It might even mean that the whole concession would come to nothing; for Radlett's partner, John Pasquett, was a quite unknown quantity, and might wholly lack the resources necessary to put it through. This infernal murder might be his ruin, or at least the ruin of the Anglo-Asiatic Corporation.

The plain fact was that the Anglo-Asiatic was in a pretty bad mess. It had investments in India and China which were doing reasonably well. But it had burnt its fingers badly in Mesopotamia just after the war, and its holdings in Persia were none too flourishing. The most serious blow, however, had been the complete wiping out, for the time at least, of its revenue from Russia. Russia, especially Asiatic Russia, had always been before the war the Anglo-Asiatic's principal sphere of operations. The Anglo-Asiatic Corporation had been doing very well indeed in Russia. But the two Russian revolutions had simply swept its profits away, and made its capital, at least for the time, worthless. Its Russian properties had been confiscated: nothing was coming in for the big sum sunk in works of development. The Board of the Corporation had backed first Admiral Kolchak and then other counter-revolutionary leaders in return for new concessions and promises that its properties would be fully restored. But, in the event, these concessions and promises were not worth the paper they were written on. The Board had to admit that it had merely been throwing good money after bad. It had become seriously involved, and no amount of window-dressing or management of the Press had availed to conceal the gravity of the position. The shares of the Anglo-Asiatic had slumped heavily.

Radlett's proposal of partnership in his new concession had seemed to hold out the prospect of a glorious recovery, for Lord Ealing thought he saw his way not only to make money--a lot of money if all went well--out of Radlett's concession, but also to use it as the means of getting back the Anglo-Asiatic's confiscated properties. He had had enough of "White Hopes." The Soviet Government seemed to be firmly established, and he saw that the only sensible course was to come to terms with it. Lord Ealing had political influence enough, even as a member of the Opposition Front Bench, to feel confident that, if he gave the lead, he could force the Government to recognise Russia fully. Moreover, the Government's tenure of power was by no means secure: he might himself before long be in office. He persuaded the Board of the Anglo-Asiatic to adopt his view, and to receive Radlett's proposals with favour. He had learnt by correspondence that Radlett was a keen business man--just how keen he had not realised till their meeting on the day preceding the crime. With Radlett's co-operation he had felt sure of securely re-establishing the fortunes of the Anglo-Asiatic.

But, apart from these hopes, which he shared with his co-directors, Lord Ealing had hopes of his own, which the talk of the previous day had encouraged, and the breakfast with Radlett had been designed to turn into certainty. Lord Ealing had meant to set the Anglo-Asiatic on its feet; but he had meant also, by a method strictly confidential between Radlett and himself, to make a tidy bit extra on his own. And Radlett, the day before, had fallen in with his scheme, taking a mere hint at once, and entering wholeheartedly into the plan.

Encouraged by the prospects of the new concession, Lord Ealing's co-directors had begun, before Radlett's arrival, quietly buying Anglo-Asiatics at the low prices then ruling. Very jealously they had guarded the secret of the proposed deal while they were buying; they had refrained from any action that might raise the price of the shares until they had bought all they wanted at the bottom price. Inevitably, their buying had at length caused a rise, and then, very discreetly, they spread abroad rumours of the coming deal. The shares had already responded by rising ten points during the last three days.

Lord Ealing, as well as his co-directors, had been buying shares. But, curiously enough, he had given instructions to his broker on the previous afternoon, after his meeting with Radlett, to sell all his recent acquisitions, which, of course, he had bought in the name of a convenient solicitor. His fellow-directors had no idea that he was doing this, and they would have been greatly puzzled if they had known. But Lord Ealing had his reasons. He had made a good profit by his buying and selling already: he hoped for a very much greater profit from transactions yet to come.

And now, Hugh Radlett's sudden death had spoilt everything. It would be in all the papers within an hour, and his own presence on the scene of the crime would be quite enough to enable the City to put two and two together. Anglo-Asiatics would slump and slump again. Lord Ealing could see no bottom to their fall.

But, you say, if Lord Ealing was a seller, surely this was what he expected. You are right, and wrong. In order to explain why he was upset, we must reveal the substance of his little deal with Hugh Radlett--of that part of it, we mean, which he refrained from reporting to the police. The rise of the shares was based on the rumour of the new concession. If that fell through, the shares would fall--lower than they had ever fallen before. And what Lord Ealing and Radlett had arranged on the previous day was precisely that this should happen. Radlett was to give out that his negotiations with the Anglo-Asiatic had broken down, and that the concession was off. Every one--even the Board of the Anglo-Asiatic, except, of course, Lord Ealing himself--was to believe that this was so. The shares were to be forced down again, till they could be bought for a mere song. Then Lord Ealing and Hugh Radlett, under convenient _aliases_, would buy all they could lay hands on. That done, Radlett would change his mind, the arrangement between him and the Anglo-Asiatic would go through without a hitch, and the shares would bound up to dizzy heights of speculation. It was a neat scheme, and Radlett had fallen in with it so readily that Lord Ealing half suspected he had thought of it previously for himself. The details were to have been arranged over breakfast that morning.

But, with Radlett dead, not only was the scheme frustrated, but the whole future of the Anglo-Asiatic was again in jeopardy. The shares would fall, but there was no assurance that they would recover. Lord Ealing, who still had a substantial holding, could see no bottom to their fall. It was even now probably too late to sell out the remainder of his holding at a profit. And that would be a complete throwing up of the sponge, for which Lord Ealing was not yet prepared. Assurance had gone; but there was still hope. Slender hope, maybe, but hope all the same.

Radlett was dead, and Radlett's millions had been an essential part of the plan for re-establishing the Anglo-Asiatic's fortune. It was not merely a concession Lord Ealing wanted, but fresh capital enough to inspire thorough confidence. And heaven alone knew who were Radlett's heirs, or whether there would be any chance of interesting them in the concession.

Still, there remained a chance--how good a chance there was no means of judging--that the concession could still be carried through. Even if Radlett was dead, his partner, John Pasquett, remained, and might conceivably be able to put the deal through with their help. But had Radlett's partner any money? Pasquett was a dark horse--Lord Ealing knew virtually nothing about him--and, in any case, he was not due to arrive for a week, and no one seemed to have any idea where he was.

The devil of a tangle! And his co-directors, Sir James Vanzetti and Mr. Benjamin, were even now waiting for him at the office, where he was to report to them the results of his conversation with Hugh Radlett, or as much of it as he chose to report. Would news of the affair have reached them, or would he be the first to bring evil tidings? There was nothing yet on the newspaper placards.

Hugh Radlett had been so eminently desirable a partner and had fallen in so readily with Lord Ealing's scheme. Vanzetti had been over to America himself in order to find out all about him. They knew all about his disappearance eight years before, but they had found also that his vast fortune, securely invested in bonds and stocks of the best class, was for the most part easily realisable. The Anglo-Asiatic needed badly a partner who could lay his hand speedily on a million or so without feeling the strain. Radlett had been the man. Oh, damn the fellow! Why hadn't he taken more care of himself? And heaven alone knew where his money would go now, or whether this Pasquett or any one else would be able to provide the capital necessary for developing the concession. Vanzetti had failed to find out anything about Pasquett in America. He appeared to be totally unknown in financial circles. Probably the fellow had no capital, and Lord Ealing did not relish the job of trying to raise all that would be needed through the Anglo-Asiatic. Even if he could get the money, on the strength of the concession, he knew he would have to pay through the nose for it. He cursed under his breath as his car drew up at the corner of Kingsway.

As he crossed the pavement, a newsboy came running past, shouting and armed with a staring placard.

"AMERICAN MILLIONAIRE MURDERED.

GRUESOME STORY."

So the tale was out.

Vanzetti and Benjamin would have got the news already over the tape, if they had troubled to look at it. He went straight to Benjamin's room, and found them together.

The three leaders of the Anglo-Asiatic made a curious contrast. As they met, three types of modern high finance came together, and clashed a little at the concussion. For Lord Ealing's polished affability did not conceal the fact that he regarded his colleagues as a pair of vulgar upstarts, and their manner to him never quite escaped both the opposite extremes of aggressiveness and servility. Benjamin was smooth, and inclined to be servile: Vanzetti hid behind a tone of aggressive familiarity a sense of social inferiority of which Lord Ealing was well aware. Unlike their chairman, the vice-chairman and the managing director of the Anglo-Asiatic were both self-made men.

Benjamin's father, indeed, had been a tailor in Whitechapel, an immigrant from somewhere in Central Europe. The son had started as office boy in a financial house in the City and worked his way up by industry and an extraordinary talent for watching the markets. He had not speculated himself: he played as a rule for safety. But he had been the invaluable adviser of speculators, and had made the fortune of more than one of his early employers. Personally, he was a very small man, obviously Jewish and obviously foreign, with a quick, nervous manner and a tendency to gesticulate. His chief failing was a weakness for great men, whose acquaintance he sedulously cultivated. His greatest joy but one was to sit next to a great man at dinner--his greatest to tell his friends about it afterwards.

Benjamin was seated now at his desk, and opposite him, in front of the fireplace, stood the gross bulk of Sir James Vanzetti. Lord Ealing was a tall man: Benjamin looked very small beside him. But Vanzetti dwarfed them both. He was not fat: he was built on a colossal scale--a great, ugly head set on a huge, shapeless body, a broad, flat face that set one thinking of Mongolia, small, pig-like eyes ceaselessly roving from thing to thing, a mass of dark, untidy hair and a great drooping, black moustache--with stains of food and drink on his ample waistcoat, made the more prominent by his massive gold watch chain.

Lord Ealing looked at his two colleagues, and a feeling of distaste came over him. He brushed an imaginary speck from his well-cut morning coat, and added a shade to the exquisite politeness of his manner. He felt his patrician beauty and grace of movement by the side of these unsightly men of business. He drawled at them with his most exasperating Balliol accent, heard only when he was more than usually conscious of his own superiority.

"So sorry if I've kept you waiting. You have heard nothing, I suppose?"

Lord Ealing had known from his first glance at the two men that they had heard nothing. There was no special anxiety in their faces. Vanzetti had just been holding forth to Benjamin, as usual, and Benjamin had been obsequiously listening, and keeping his private observations to himself.

"What should we have heard? We were waiting for you," said Vanzetti. He had a loud, unpleasant, grating voice. It jarred on Lord Ealing.

"Oh, I thought you might have heard of Radlett's murder. It's on the placards," said Lord Ealing, as if he were mentioning an event of no particular importance.

"What?" roared Vanzetti. "What's that you say? Radlett's murder?"

"My dear Vanzetti, that's what I said. There is no need to shout."

"My God!" Vanzetti sat down heavily in a chair, and stared at the bringer of evil tidings.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," put in Mr. Benjamin. "We know nothing. Could you tell us----" He had gone dead white; his pince-nez fell off and clattered on to the table.

Lord Ealing, still keeping up his air of unconcern, told them what had happened at the hotel, and of his visit to Scotland Yard. The two men stared at him, saying not a word till he had done. Only Mr. Benjamin recovered his glasses, and Vanzetti, after a minute, resumed his place before the fire.

"My God!" he said again. "This means ruin, Ealing. You take it damned calmly."

"Oh," said Lord Ealing, "do you think that? Of course, it is serious."

"I should jolly well think it was serious. We've put it about we were in with this man Radlett. Anglo-Asiatics won't be worth a brass farthing to-morrow. You mark my words."

"My dear Vanzetti, I always mark your words. You mark them for me. But there is this fellow Pasquett to be considered. We may--pull it off yet."

"Mr. Pasquett ought to be found at once, my lord," said Benjamin. "We must act quickly."

"And how the devil are we to act," shouted Vanzetti, "if we don't know where the fellow is--or whether he's got the cash to put it through? Upon my word, Ealing, this is too much. How often have I told you the Government ought to stamp out these damned Bolsheviks?"

"Oh, quite often," said Lord Ealing. "But, unfortunately, I'm not in power. I quite agree with you about the Government."

"Damn the Government. When it comes to a man like Radlett being murdered by one of these damned devils--in a place like Sugden's--what's the country coming to? These Labour men----"

"Aren't we getting a little off the point, my dear Vanzetti? You were saying, Benjamin, that we ought to find Pasquett? Will you tell me how?"

Benjamin held up his hands with a gesture of despair.

"What I say is, something must be done at once," said Vanzetti.

"Ah, yes, but what? What do you say, Benjamin?"

"I was thinking, my lord."

"You'll have all the time you need for thinking, my lad, if this deal falls through. Where'll the Anglo-Asiatic be in a week's time? Eh?" Vanzetti turned his back on them, and kicked savagely at the fire.

"Let us keep cool," said Lord Ealing. "Benjamin is quite right to think it out."

"You find this chap, Pasquett--and the cash, and I'll keep cool enough. But probably the fellow hasn't a cent. And we can't raise it. We're all in now, as it is."

"Well, Benjamin?"

"I think, my lord, I had better see a few people quietly at once, and assure them that Radlett's death will make no difference. It may stave off a collapse for a few days, till we can get in touch with Pasquett."

"What about the financial papers?"

"Of course, my lord. I will see what can be done with them. I may use your name?"

Lord Ealing laughed. "I suppose so. Between ourselves, the position is a little--awkward."

"I will see about it at once." And little Mr. Benjamin trotted off to put matters in train, leaving the other two together.

"Decent police on the job?" asked Vanzetti.

"Blaikie, the Inspector who came to the hotel, is just the ordinary plodding type, I think. But Wilson, at the Yard, is good. A very able man. He did well when I was at the Home Office."

"What about spending a bit to make it worth his while? To find Pasquett, I mean."

"Not the slightest use. Wilson is quite above taking money. It would only make him suspicious to offer it. I have asked him to do what he can, and let me know at once if he gets into touch with Pasquett."

"Any use putting on private men of our own?"

"I think not. The police have by far the best chance of finding him. And he is expected here in a week, in any case."

"Good Lord! A week!"

"Patience, my dear fellow. We will wire to him at Reval, of course. But I expect he has left there. Our task is to be quietly confident till he comes. We must tell all the right people that the affair is--coming off. With a little effort, I do not see why we should not keep the shares from going down--for a week or so."

"I see your lay. You're holding on, then?"

"Above all, my dear Vanzetti, there must be no selling--by us. Personally, I shall go on buying, a little, and letting it be known. You understand that? No selling!"

Vanzetti mopped his brow. "I suppose you're right, Ealing. But it'll be the hell of a strain. I think I'll go round to the club, and start talkin'. I'll feel better, doin' something."

Lord Ealing was left alone. His colleagues were really rather impossible people, especially Vanzetti. But so useful. He sighed. Invaluable little chap, Benjamin.

Lord Ealing's first action, when he found himself alone, was to telephone to Mr. Franklin's office. But the lawyer was out, and his clerk did not know when he would return. He had gone out with a man--a detective--who had called for him on urgent business. Lord Ealing left a message that Franklin must ring up without fail, immediately upon his return. Then he spent a bad three-quarters of an hour in his own room, vainly endeavouring to concentrate his mind on the matters of business which required his attention. His secretary, called in to receive instructions, found him in a vile temper, and, having seen a newspaper, surmised the cause.

No telephone message came from Franklin, but at last his secretary came in to say that the lawyer had called personally, and desired to see him on an urgent matter. He was at once shown in.

"Thank the Lord you're here at last," said Lord Ealing. "Have you sold those shares?"

"I gave orders to the brokers yesterday, my lord. They were sold the first thing this morning, in good time. At twelve more than we gave for them."

Lord Ealing heaved a sigh of relief. "That's one thing off my mind," he said. "You have heard of this bad business about Radlett?" he added.

Franklin replied that he had heard nothing of the murder till, on arriving at his office, he had found a man from Scotland Yard waiting for him. The man had told him briefly what had happened, and had insisted that he should go with him at once to the Yard and see Superintendent Wilson. "I had to go," Franklin added. "I stayed only to collect a few vital papers. I've just come from Wilson now. Of course you know I saw Mr. Radlett yesterday afternoon--after his visit to you."

"He told me he was on his way to see you."

"I would naturally very much rather have seen you, my lord, before going to Scotland Yard. But the man who came for me really left me no alternative. And, I think, no harm has been done. I said nothing that would be--better unsaid."

"That is good. You say you took some important papers with you?"

"Yes, at Mr. Radlett's orders. He said, if anything happened to him, I was to take it at once to Scotland Yard."

"It?"

"The concession. Mr. Radlett gave it into my keeping yesterday."

"Thank God, that's safe. I feared the murderer had found it."

"No, though he seems to have searched high and low for it."

Franklin then told Lord Ealing all that he had previously told Superintendent Wilson at the Yard. He even placed a copy of the will in Lord Ealing's hands. "I think my client would have wished it," he said. "Not strictly etiquette, of course. Quite between ourselves, you understand."

"Of course. So this man Pasquett inherits everything, and can touch the money now, under the power of attorney?"

"That is so, and, of course, I realise that makes it all the more important to get in touch with him at once."

"I have no address, except the post office at Reval."

"I understand Mr. Pasquett has left there."

"And you have no idea where he is?"

"Well"--Mr. Franklin's eyes rested meaningly, as he spoke, on Lord Ealing's--"as a matter of fact, I forgot to tell the Superintendent. But I believe Mr. Radlett did say something about Pasquett being in Warsaw. But he gave me no precise address. I thought it might be convenient to tell you this. It quite slipped my mind, you understand, when I was talking to Wilson."

"I'm really very much obliged to you, Franklin. Of course, I won't forget it. Hm, Warsaw."

"I am always glad to be of any help, my lord."

"Now, Franklin, there's just one other point. What did Radlett say to you about my conversation with him yesterday afternoon?"

"All I told Wilson was that he informed me that he had seen you."

"Good. But he told you something further?"

"Well, my lord, he just hinted that there might be some temporary doubt about his going on with the proposed partnership with the Anglo-Asiatic, on account of its bad position in the City." Mr. Franklin looked meaningly at Lord Ealing.

"Look here, Franklin, I see you understand the position. What I am really anxious about is a letter I sent to Radlett by hand last night, giving further details about--the matter you refer to. Radlett did not send you that letter."

"No."

"He got it last night. Now, that letter must not come out. It would do infinite harm, and no one would be the better for it. I hope to God Radlett destroyed it; but, if he didn't--well, either it's among the papers in his room, and the police have got it--or else the murderer has got it. Do you see? It's devilish awkward."

Franklin stroked his chin, and looked at Lord Ealing. "Yes, it would be," he said. "But I don't quite see where I come in."

"My dear fellow, you are Radlett's business adviser. Can't you get a look at those papers before the police go through them, and--you understand?"

Franklin stared at the ground for some minutes. "It's a poor chance at best," he said at last, "and risky."

"Of course, my dear fellow, you would be putting me under a very deep obligation."

"Yes. Well, my lord, if I can do anything I will. But I fear they will not let me have the papers."

"Try, Franklin. And meanwhile, I'll try to get in touch with Pasquett at Warsaw."

"Of course, he may have left there by now. But I was wondering, my lord, if you could make it convenient to send out a trustworthy man to get in touch with him if he is there. He could take a letter from me, about Mr. Radlett's will, as well as one from you."

"Not a bad idea, Franklin." Lord Ealing pondered for a moment. Then he rang the bell at his side. "Ask Mr. Wharton to come here," he said to the clerk who answered the summons.