Chapter X

SHOWING WHY PEERS SHOULD WEAR GLOVES, AND HOW MILLIONAIRES ARE NOT
ALWAYS FORTUNATE IN LOVE

The papers found in Hugh Radlett's rooms had been brought round to Scotland Yard during the morning, and submitted for expert examination to the finger-print department. The murderer, in his search for the documents he wanted, might have left traces on the papers, though he had left none on the objects Blaikie had already examined. After his interview with the taxi-driver who had picked up Radlett at Sugden's Hotel, the Inspector returned to his room, to find a very excited expert from the finger-print department awaiting him.

"I say, Blaikie," said that officer, as the Inspector entered, "what the devil does this mean?"

"What the devil does what mean?"

"Do you know whose finger prints are all over those papers you sent in this morning?"

"The murderer's, I hope," said Blaikie. "So there were finger prints, after all. Have you been able to identify them?"

"I should jolly well think we have," said the expert. Blaikie sensed the excitement in his voice. "Do you tell me they're the murderer's?"

"What do you suppose I wanted them for? Whose are they?"

"They are Lord Ealing's."

"Lord Ealing's?" said Blaikie, incredulously. "Don't talk nonsense."

"I tell you those papers contain a good dozen finger prints, mostly excellent impressions, which are unquestionably Lord Ealing's."

"Good God," said Blaikie, mopping his brow, "what on earth does it mean? But how do you come to have Lord Ealing's finger prints?" he added, with a renewed note of suspicion.

"Oh, that's easy. When he was Home Secretary, we showed him over the department, and he had his finger prints taken by way of illustrating how it is done. We filed them with the rest. We have lots of the nobs filed, I assure you."

"You are prepared to swear," said Blaikie, "that these prints are Lord Ealing's?"

"Absolutely. Though it'll be something new if you want us to prove that the late Home Secretary is a murderer. Don't seem to make sense. Eh, Blaikie?"

"No," said Blaikie, "of course Lord Ealing is not a murderer. It's absurd. But what puzzles me is how his finger prints got on to those papers. They can't be his."

"They are. We've all been into it, and we all agree. Naturally, we were a bit surprised when we looked up the reference."

"Surprised. I should think so. I can't make head or tail of it," said Blaikie. "I must tell the Superintendent at once. Or, look here, you'd better tell him. I'll get him to come here." Blaikie 'phoned through to Wilson's room, announcing a startling discovery, and within a minute the Superintendent came in. The man from the finger-print department repeated his statement. Wilson asked him a number of questions, but he remained quite firm that there had been no mistake. Wilson turned to Blaikie.

"Now tell me," he said, "was Lord Ealing alone with those papers at any time this morning?"

Blaikie thought. "He was there before me," he said, "but I'm sure he wasn't alone before I arrived. Afterwards, yes; he was alone in the room when I came back after telephoning to you."

"That's it," said Wilson. "Lord Ealing's not the murderer. That's nonsense. But he did take the opportunity of your absence from the room to look over those papers. It seems as if he wanted to find something. What, I don't know, but that may explain why I felt he was keeping something back when he talked to me this morning." He turned to the expert. "Now, mind, not a word of this to any one. Keep the mouths of the chaps in your department shut. Do you understand?"

The man from the finger-print department received his instructions, and left the two detectives together.

"This is a most remarkable complication, Blaikie," said Wilson. "We must find out more about this."

"Lord Ealing, sir," said Blaikie, "I can't fancy him up to any hocus-pocus."

"Oh, but I can," said Wilson. "We shall need to walk warily, though. His lordship is not a man to be trifled with. I'll give this point my personal attention, Blaikie. You get on with examining those papers, and let me know. They may throw some light on what Lord Ealing was doing. Though, if he wanted one of them, he's very likely got it. Keep your mouth shut about this. It's not a thing to talk about. Of course, not a word to Lord Ealing."

Wilson went back to his room, and Blaikie turned to the papers which the man from the finger-print department had brought to his room. With a sigh of perplexity, he settled down to examine them in detail. They were a very miscellaneous collection, for the most part business papers and memoranda, the majority of quite recent date, but some dating back as much as ten years, and belonging, therefore, to the period before Radlett's sudden disappearance from New York eight years before. The business papers formed the largest group; but, in addition, there were a number of private letters and documents, and a few old photographs.

Blaikie began by sorting the papers roughly into a number of piles--business notes and memoranda on one pile, private documents on another, photographs on a third. At this first sorting, he picked out four papers and laid them aside from the rest. One was a long, typewritten document, unheaded, but containing apparently a sort of autobiography, written by Radlett himself. The second seemed to be the manuscript original or part of the original of this document. These Blaikie put by for full study at a later stage. The third was a marriage certificate, recording Hugh Radlett's marriage, twelve years before, at a church in New York, to Philippa Franck Dolmetsch, daughter of Felix Franck Dolmetsch, banker, of New York City. The fourth was another certificate, recording the birth, forty-five years before, of Hugh, son of John Radlett, miner, in the Parish of Restington, Co. Durham.

"So that's why he called himself 'Restington,'" said Blaikie softly. "Thinking of the old place."

He noted the dates, and passed on to the pile of private letters. Among them was a bundle, tied together with a faded piece of ribbon. On the top was a loose sheet of paper, endorsed "From Mary Pole, H.R."

"I wonder who Mary Pole is--or was," said Blaikie to himself. "Not that it's likely to matter."

He read through the letters. The last had been written some twelve years before, four years before Radlett's disappearance from America. Most were simple little notes, about everyday matters, showing only a close friendship between Radlett and the writer. She addressed him as "Hugh," and signed herself "Mary." But the later letters were more interesting. Clearly, Radlett and Mary Pole had fallen in love and became engaged. There were lovers' letters, making appointments, relating experiences, or about nothing at all save Mary Pole's love for Hugh Radlett. Blaikie came to the last letter but one. Mary had been away in the country for her health. She wrote to tell her lover that the doctors had told her she was dying of consumption, and that there was no hope. It was only a matter of months. She had made up her mind not to see Hugh again, but to go home to her parents in Scotland, and die there. It would be best for them both, she felt, not to say good-bye. She loved him, but she could not marry him now.

The last letter showed that Hugh Radlett had at once hurried off, and compelled Mary Pole to see him. He had entreated her to marry him, but she had refused. He had written again, imploring her to spend her last days with him as his wife; and her last letter--a pitiful thing--told him that before he received it she would have gone, and that he must not follow her. She would leave him no address: it was better so. She wished simply to go out of his life. Her own would soon be ended.

Blaikie turned again to the certificate of Radlett's marriage. Two years after this parting he had married another woman, and two years later again he had parted from his wife. A pathetic story; but neither here nor there in relation to Radlett's death. Blaikie put the letters aside, and turned to the rest of the papers before him.

The other private letters were few. One or two, apparently survivors of early manhood, were of a date before Radlett's disappearance. The rest were brief notes from his partner, John Pasquett, written in a style which showed close friendship, and of various dates, from nine years to only a few weeks back. They contained nothing of importance, dealing mostly with journeys and adventures in Russia. The later letters also referred again and again to the projected concession, and there were several mentions of the proposal to interest Lord Ealing and the Anglo-Asiatic in the scheme.

Blaikie turned next to the business papers. Some of these were also more than eight years old, and dealt with Radlett's business affairs in America. One gave apparently a list of his investments at the time of leaving America. Then there was a long letter from his lawyer in New York, dated only a few months back, giving an account of his stewardship of Radlett's fortune during his eight years' absence. This had apparently been written in reply to a letter of Radlett's, resuming contact with his affairs in New York after his long absence in Siberia. Clearly, from the letter, Radlett's affairs were in a most flourishing condition: his securities had appreciated under skilful management, and he was richer than ever at the time of his arrival in London.

The letter from the New York lawyer dealt also with more personal matters. It informed Radlett that his daughter's education was proceeding satisfactorily, and that more than nine million dollars, the estate of his dead wife, were being held in trust for her, and a part of the income applied to her maintenance. The lawyer also asked for any instructions concerning the will which Radlett had left behind on his departure from America, or concerning the other deeds relating to the disposal of his property. Did these stand, or were there later instructions?

The Inspector made a note that the New York lawyer must be communicated with, and informed, if he did not already know, of the existence of the later will. He then turned to a large mass of papers dealing with the proposed concession on the Yenisei River. These included elaborate notes of the survey which Radlett and John Pasquett had undertaken, mostly in Pasquett's writing, as Blaikie found by a comparison with Pasquett's letters, which he had already examined. There were also plans, a few letters to Radlett from departments of the Soviet Government, written in French or German, and typewritten copies of some of Radlett's replies. There were also copies of Radlett's letters to Lord Ealing inviting the Anglo-Asiatic to become a partner in the concession, and the originals of Lord Ealing's answers. The Inspector, feeling that these documents were not really his business, examined them but briefly, and put them aside.

There now remained only the photographs and the two bundles of papers containing Radlett's autobiography. Most of the photographs were of scenes in Siberia, largely of the country covered by the concession, endorsed on the back with descriptions in Pasquett's writing. Three were portraits. One, a snapshot of a tall, broad, pleasant-faced man of forty or so, was autographed in the corner, "H. R., with love from J. P." So this was Radlett's partner, whose coming was so eagerly awaited. "A good-looking fellow," thought the Inspector, "with a taking smile, and a merry look about the eyes." The second was of Radlett's father, who looked like a typical miner, sturdy and stooping, with keen peering eyes, and a tired, strong face. It was endorsed on the back: it had been taken over thirty years ago. The last photograph, autographed "Hugh from Mary," portrayed a girl, rather sad-faced, but beautiful, in the dress of a dozen years before. "So that's Mary Pole," thought the Inspector. "He kept her portrait, but not his wife's."

Radlett's autobiography, perhaps, would tell him more of these relics of the past, and, having finished his study of the smaller papers, Blaikie settled down to read it.

Comparing the two copies, he found that a couple of sheets at the end were wanting in the manuscript copy, which ended in the middle of a sentence. For the present, therefore, he set aside the frayed and discoloured sheets of manuscript and took up the bundle of typescript. It had been typed, he had satisfied himself, on the actual typewriter, an old German machine, found in Radlett's rooms, possibly by Radlett himself, possibly by the missing Rosenbaum, in his capacity of secretary to the millionaire.

But Blaikie had hardly begun to read when he was informed that Mr. Franklin would like to see him. He told the officer to send the lawyer up, and put the paper he had been reading down on his desk. A minute later Franklin came in, and greeted him warmly. Blaikie was surprised at his warmth, for they had only met once before, and on that occasion they had not been friends. Franklin at once referred to the occasion.

"Well, Inspector," he said, "you did me down nicely the last time we met. What was it my man got? Five years, yes. But I bear no malice. Dear me, no. All in the day's work."

Blaikie was polite, and let him talk on for a minute or so. Then he inquired the lawyer's business.

"You are aware," said Franklin, "that I was Mr. Radlett's legal adviser. He placed all his affairs in my hands."

Blaikie said that he was aware of the fact. Franklin then, with what seemed to Blaikie an unnecessary display of tact, came to his point. He wanted permission to go through the papers found in Radlett's room, in order to see if he could tell whether any important documents were missing. Radlett had given him a list of the more important papers.

"If you give me the list," said Blaikie, "I will check it carefully with the papers."

Franklin's reply was to suggest that it would be best if he went through the papers himself.

Blaikie considered. He could see no objection to the proposal considered in itself. At least, he would have seen none, had he not been conscious of something suspicious in Franklin's manner, and had he not remembered that the lawyer had some connection with Lord Ealing. This, however, was quite enough to make him suspicious, after his experience narrated at the beginning of this chapter. He replied, cautiously, that he would have to ask Superintendent Wilson's permission.

"Is that necessary? Of course, it is as you think best. But surely, if I can be of help in that way...."

Blaikie reaffirmed that he must ask Wilson. He would have gone to the Superintendent's room to consult him, and Franklin actually suggested this. But it would have meant leaving Franklin alone with the papers. He took up the house 'phone, and told his chief that Mr. Franklin was there, and was asking to see Radlett's papers in order to check them for possible missing documents. He could tell from Wilson's voice that the information interested him. What the Superintendent actually told him was to let Franklin see the papers, but to keep a very watchful eye on him while he did so.

Blaikie told the lawyer that he might go through the papers, and Franklin at once began his examination. Watching him closely, Blaikie got a definite impression that he was looking for some particular document, for at most of the papers he barely glanced. And, when he had done, Blaikie was sure, from his anxious inquiry whether there were absolutely no more, that he had not found what he wanted.

Franklin, however, positively assured the Inspector that no paper of which Radlett had told him appeared to be missing. "Though that, of course," he added, "is no proof that nothing has been taken. There are many papers here of which I knew nothing."

Blaikie thanked the lawyer for his trouble, making only a mental note of the impression he had received. He drew from Franklin's visit the conclusion that Lord Ealing had not found what he wanted when he searched the papers at the hotel. But he was as puzzled as ever to guess what it could be. With assurances that he wished to be of all possible use, the Inspector returned to his interrupted reading of Radlett's story of his life.