Chapter XIV

IN WHICH LORD EALING SUCCEEDS IN A DESIGN CONCEIVED FOR REASONS
BEST KNOWN TO HIMSELF

Lord Ealing was a frequent caller at Scotland Yard during these troublous days. His anxiety to find Pasquett grew hourly; for, despite all possible precautions, the shares of the Anglo-Asiatic were dropping and dropping, and, until Pasquett turned up and agreed to carry on with the concession, there was no prospect of recovery. Even Mr. Benjamin's ingenuity had hardly been able to check the flying rumour that Radlett's death had shattered the Anglo-Asiatic's hopes, that the projected concession was off, and that, to put it plainly, the Corporation had moved from Kingsway to Queer Street.

Lord Ealing kept a brave face before the world, and made a speech full of optimism at a big city dinner, taking good care to refer to the vast openings for British capital and enterprise in the undeveloped quarters of the globe, particularly in Asia. He had no patience, he said, with those who maintained that Great Britain had passed her zenith, or that the vast forces still latent in the modern business system would not be developed to the full by British brains, with the savings of the thrifty British citizen behind them. Even now, vast vistas were opening out: the most glorious achievements of British ingenuity and resource were still in the future. He could tell them.... But the City was not reassured by Lord Ealing's eloquence: Anglo-Asiatics dropped three points on the following day.

Nor did Lord Ealing, when he was by himself, appear to be reassured. Then, he looked gloomy and worried. When he was with Vanzetti and Benjamin, he was cheerful enough, telling them he had no doubt of Pasquett's coming in, or of the concession being carried to a triumphant issue. But it was hard work, keeping up the air of serenity, and Lord Ealing had other things to worry him besides the drop in the Anglo-Asiatic's shares. He kept sending Arthur Wharton messages bidding him spare no trouble in his search for Pasquett, and he constantly either rang up Superintendent Wilson at Scotland Yard, or called there himself in hope of news. He also used every means in his power of ensuring that Pasquett, wherever he was, should hear of his partner's death. He had a good hold on the foreign news agencies, and he saw to it that a full account of the crime was sent out by them to the Continental papers, and regularly followed up. Surely, if Pasquett heard of the crime, he would get into communication at once and come to London with all possible speed. For Pasquett, too, one would suppose, had an interest in putting the concession through. He might communicate either with the Anglo-Asiatic or with the police, but he would hardly lose any time before getting into touch with the one or the other. When the days passed, and no news came, Lord Ealing began to fear that some evil had befallen Pasquett as well as his partner. Could he have been murdered too?

On one of his calls at Scotland Yard, Lord Ealing found Superintendent Wilson out, and was shown into Blaikie's office. This was on the day after the Inspector's visit to Mr. Culpepper at Enfield, and Blaikie told Lord Ealing what had passed between them. When he mentioned Culpepper's remark that Pasquett had been reluctant to go in with the Anglo-Asiatic, and had been in favour of co-operating with a French syndicate, Lord Ealing's gloom visibly deepened. It was more than ever urgent to find Pasquett at once, if there was a prospect that he might open up negotiations with some rival financial group.

When Blaikie told him of his ill success in tracking Rosenbaum, this, so far from adding to Lord Ealing's gloom, seemed even to cheer him up a little. "I'd take my oath," said Blaikie to Wilson afterwards, "he positively doesn't want Rosenbaum to be caught." Wilson said that Lord Ealing had given him the same impression. "But why," asked Blaikie, "why should he want the murderer to get away? I'm damned if I can understand it."

"Unless we're hopelessly on the wrong track, and Rosenbaum isn't the murderer, after all," said Wilson, "and Lord Ealing knows who is, and doesn't want it to come out."

"There's another curious thing," said Blaikie. "I mentioned to him that we had reason to believe that Pasquett was somewhere in Poland, and, from the way he took it, I'd have sworn he knew that already, and was very much annoyed at our knowing it. But that simply doesn't fit in with his anxiety we should find Pasquett. And I don't see how he could know where Pasquett is, or was."

"He has not seen Culpepper, I suppose."

"No, I'm sure he has not. Have you any news from Warsaw?"

"Nothing yet. I wired to the Warsaw police as soon as you told me what Culpepper said. But they've not answered yet."

"I dare say Pasquett is not there, after all."

"Very likely not. He may be in Russia for all we know."

"Have you done anything further about Lord Ealing?"

"My dear Inspector, what can I do? I've made every possible inquiry. What is quite plain is that Lord Ealing was not at Sugden's Hotel when the murder was committed. If you have let the idea of his guilt ever cross your mind----"

"His guilt, sir? What do you mean? Rosenbaum's the murderer surely?"

"Perhaps, Blaikie. But Lord Ealing has behaved so suspiciously that I thought it my duty to make sure. And I think it is quite clear that Lord Ealing was at home in bed when it happened, and that by no possible means could he have made his way into Sugden's Hotel without being seen."

"That's so, sir. Nobody could. I'm ready to take my oath on that."

"Very well. That rules out Lord Ealing as a principal--it would be almost too astounding a suspicion in any case--but it does not tell us whether he is an ... accomplice."

"You mean he may have very good reasons for not wishing Rosenbaum to be caught?"

"Quite so. Rosenbaum might give him away ... whatever it is he's been up to, and doesn't want us to know. You agree he's been up to something, Blaikie?"

"I hardly know what to say, sir. The late Home Secretary ought to be----"

"Like Cæsar's wife? Quite. But is he? In the light of those finger prints, can we say that he is above suspicion?"

"No, if you put it that way, I suppose we can't."

"Well, then, Blaikie, the fact that Lord Ealing doesn't want us to catch Rosenbaum is a reason the more why we want to catch him quick. Rosenbaum's the man to clear up this Lord Ealing business."

"But, sir, it's incredible. Lord Ealing mixed up with a notorious Bolshevik agitator?"

"I don't pretend to understand it, Blaikie, but there it is. Lord Ealing knows something about this murder, and he's afraid of Rosenbaum. We can't get anything out of Lord Ealing direct, so we must catch Rosenbaum, and get whatever it is out of him."

But catching Rosenbaum was easier said than done. The days passed, and Blaikie pursued his inquiries in vain.

So matters dragged on until a week had passed since the affair at Sugden's Hotel. Nothing more was discovered: the police began to fear that Rosenbaum had got safely out of the country, and to be sure that Radlett, even in the unlikely event of his having been removed from the hotel alive, was by now quite certainly dead. The case seemed to have come to an unsatisfactory and inconclusive termination.

A little more information did, indeed, come to hand. The Polish police reported that Pasquett had actually been in Warsaw, but had left on the very day when they had received the message from Scotland Yard, and, of course, before they had a chance of getting into touch with him. They had been unable to trace his subsequent movements, except that he had gone to Posen and thence into Germany. There he could only be traced by taking matters up with the German police.

But the Polish authorities further reported that some one had been energetically searching for Pasquett in Warsaw--an Englishman named Arthur Wharton. As they had not known who he was, they had been polite, but had given him no help in his search. They reported these facts in case they might be of interest to the English police.

"Who's Arthur Wharton, Blaikie?" said Wilson. "And what is he doing in search of Pasquett?"

Blaikie picked up a London telephone directory. It contained three Arthur Whartons--a fishmonger in Haverstick Hill, a court dressmaker in Little Tipton Street, and an undescribed Arthur Wharton in Bloomsbury.

"If it's any of them, the last's the most likely. You may as well find out who he is."

In due course, Blaikie found out. Arthur Wharton was an employee of the Anglo-Asiatic Corporation, at present away from England.

"So Lord Ealing did know, and he was after Pasquett on his own," said Wilson when the Inspector told him of this.

"You see what that means, Blaikie? Lord Ealing got some information about Pasquett, and, instead of passing it on to us, tried to get in touch with him without letting us know. That means he wanted to see Pasquett before the police saw him. Now why? Why should he? I'd give something to know what my Lord Ealing has up his sleeve."

Try as he might, Wilson could not guess Lord Ealing's secret. Nor could he see what course next to pursue. Then, as he sat brooding in his office, came the voice of Lord Ealing on the telephone, very smooth and unexcited. "Is that you, Wilson? May I bring Mr. Pasquett round to see you? Yes, he's here, at my office. At once? Yes, he will come round immediately."

"So he did get at Pasquett first, after all," said Wilson to himself. "Damn," he added softly.