Chapter XXIX

IN WHICH MR. CULPEPPER WRITES A LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTER, AND LORD
EALING IS A LITTLE PREVIOUS

Arthur Wharton went straight from his uncle's presence to the nearest telegraph office, and wired to Norah Culpepper at Paramé, telling her that Pasquett was not to come to London till he had seen him, and saying that he would start for Paramé at once on receiving news that Pasquett was still there, and would await his arrival. Within a few hours he got his reply, saying that Pasquett would wait for him, and adding that all was well. Arthur's telegram got through before the police surveillance over the house at Paramé had been established. Norah Culpepper's reply was copied by the French police and wired on to Scotland Yard. But, as we shall see, it did not mention Pasquett's name. Scotland Yard, therefore, was still in ignorance of Pasquett's return from Russia.

Other things, however, occurred to attract Superintendent Wilson's special attention to the villa at Paramé. As he had expected, Mr. Culpepper made a move. Seriously alarmed by the turn affairs had taken, the little man at first thought of making an immediate escape from the country. Once in France, he would be better able to watch events, to hide himself, and to make a final escape if this should prove to be necessary. Accordingly, he laid his plans. Less than an hour after he left Scotland Yard, Mr. Culpepper's confidential clerk might have been noted on his way to Hendon Aerodrome with strictly private letters for the French branch of the firm and for Miss Norah Culpepper. He bargained for a passage to St. Malo, and was fortunate enough to find another gentleman who wanted to go the same way. He was unaware that this gentleman had followed him all the way from his master's office.

It was a fine day, and the aeroplane made a good passage. But at St. Malo the fellow-passenger caught a French policeman, and exchanged a few hurried words with him. Mr. Culpepper's clerk, much to his surprise, found himself seized and brought up for investigation by the authorities, already informed by telephone from England of Scotland Yard's requirements. They told the clerk that he was suspected of being an escaped embezzler, and that he must wait till the English police arrived to identify him. But they took his letters from him, and the telegraph speedily made Superintendent Wilson master of their contents.

There were two letters. One, addressed to Culpepper's Paris manager, instructed him to raise all the ready money he could by any means realise in twenty-four hours, and pay it over to Mrs. Culpepper, who would call in person for it the next day. It was needed, the letter said, for a big speculation. French money would do. The other letter, addressed to Norah Culpepper, deserves to be quoted in full:

"MY DEAR NORAH,--The weather here does not suit me at all, and
I propose to take a change at once. Will you ask your mother to
go to Paris immediately and call at my office, where Simon will
give her the ready money we shall need for our visit. Tell her
to get it all. And I want you to motor over and pick me up, not
at the old place--there are too many people there for it to be
convenient--but at the place you came to once before, which will
mean a shorter journey. Give my love to your mother, and tell her
that, though I am not at all well, the doctor thinks it may blow
over even yet. But it is best to be on the safe side. Wire reply to
me at X.'s.

"Your loving father,
"A. C."

Wilson chuckled as he read this little effusion. "Very neat, upon my word," he said to Blaikie, tossing the copy across the table. "That proves my guess was right. If Culpepper's whole story had not been a lie he wouldn't be planning to run away now."

"Unfortunately," said Blaikie, "this letter doesn't tell us much."

"All we want, Inspector. All we want. It gives me confirmation of my theory. And Culpepper can't escape. This letter has never reached its destination, and he'll be hanging on in hope of an answer. Not that our men would let him get out of the country if he tried. But I'll tell you what, Blaikie. I've still some work to do here, but you had better get over to Paramé at once and see that girl doesn't get away. I'll put Purvis in charge of watching Culpepper on this side, and let you know if he makes a further move. Don't arrest the girl till I come, unless you have to, but on no account let her escape. Get a warrant made out, and start at once. I'll probably join you to-morrow. And, before you go, give orders to have Culpepper arrested. We can do that safely, now he has given himself away."

"Then I'm not to arrest any one till you come?"

"Not unless you must. Of course, in any extremity, use your own judgment. But there's not likely to be any difficulty. There has been nothing to give Miss Culpepper the alarm."

Blaikie hurried off to make his arrangements. He got warrants for the arrest of both Alfred and Norah Culpepper, and placed the execution of the former in the hands of one of his subordinates. Then he went to Hendon, where he had already ordered an aeroplane to be in readiness. He was in Paramé in the early afternoon.

His subordinate did not have such good luck. Mr. Culpepper somehow managed to slip out of his office unnoticed, using a stair which communicated with another building. He did not return, and there was no sign of him at his home. That astute gentleman was in fact, lying low, having made arrangements whereby any answer from Paramé would reach him indirectly, through the office of a friend. His sister at Enfield, in reply to police inquiries, stoutly denied all knowledge of where he was. Night fell, and day dawned again, but Mr. Culpepper had not been found by the police.

Wilson meanwhile, immediately after despatching Inspector Blaikie to Paramé, went to have his promised conversation with Rosenbaum, who was still in durance under the control of the Special Branch. His object was to make quite sure that Rosenbaum had not been present at Sugden's Hotel when the murder was committed, and, what was even more important, to clear up the mysterious connection which must somehow exist between Rosenbaum and the chief actors in the crime. Rosenbaum _had_ travelled to England with Radlett, and if it was not Rosenbaum who was with Radlett at the hotel, it was undoubtedly some one got up to look like him. If it was Pasquett, why had he dressed up as Rosenbaum, and how on earth had Radlett come to acquiesce in the deception?

Secondly, Wilson meant to see Lord Ealing, and to tell him of the dreadful suspicion under which his partner in the great concession lay. He wanted to do this, not out of friendliness for Lord Ealing, but because he hoped, by giving some information, to get some more and perhaps even to make Lord Ealing give himself away.

Wilson saw Rosenbaum first. Sensibly treated, the fellow was willing enough to talk. He denied being an agent of the Third International, and persisted that he had come to England on both occasions solely to visit friends. This was obviously untrue, but lack of frankness on this point did not matter to Wilson, who was only concerned with the Radlett case. With regard to this, Rosenbaum was very ready to talk. He soon convinced Wilson that he was telling the absolute truth, and that his horror at being suspected of the murder was perfectly genuine. He had not been near Sugden's Hotel, and had never heard of it, till he saw its name mentioned in the papers together with his own. He had thought then of giving himself up, but he said he had been afraid to do so, as the English police were so hard on Russians. Radlett he had met in Moscow, and had told of his desire to visit his friends in England. Radlett had offered to take him on as his secretary, and at a subsequent meeting in Paris had arranged to meet him at Ostend. He had crossed with Radlett, and they had parted on leaving the boat. He had told Radlett he would use an assumed name during his stay, but had not said what name.

Of Pasquett, Rosenbaum had never heard. Radlett had not mentioned his name. He could not conceive how it had occurred that Radlett had arrived at Sugden's Hotel in company with another man disguised as himself. He had no idea who that man could be. He had escaped from Aberdeen in a Russian ship, as the police had already discovered. That was absolutely all he knew of the affair. He refused to say why, having once escaped from England, he had come back nine months later.

Wilson left him, convinced that he had learnt all Rosenbaum had to tell. He 'phoned to Lord Ealing's office, but was told that his lordship was at Berkeley Square. Then Wilson got into communication with him, and asked for an immediate interview. Was he right in thinking that there was a distinct hesitation in Lord Ealing's reply? At all events, he was asked to go round to Berkeley Square at once.

Wilson went. The impression that Lord Ealing was anxious was not removed when the two men met. There was a noticeable perturbation about the great man's manner as he asked Wilson to sit down. In fact, Lord Ealing was in a panic. Had Arthur "split," after all?

"There is some very grave news which I think I ought to communicate to you at once," Wilson began. "It is about Mr. Pasquett. At least, it concerns him." Was he right? Did Lord Ealing give a start of fear at the name, and with difficulty control his agitation? "I suppose, my lord, you have never doubted that Mr. Pasquett is--absolutely all right."

This time Lord Ealing was in better command of himself. "All right?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have never suspected Mr. Pasquett's bona fides?"

"Bona fides?" said Lord Ealing, repeating the Superintendent's words in order to gain time and further information.

"What I mean," said Wilson, "is that I have convincing evidence that Mr. Pasquett is not--what he seems. I have to-day secured evidence which seems to indicate--well--impersonation."

Wilson was referring to Pasquett's impersonation of Rosenbaum, but Lord Ealing very naturally mistook his meaning.

After this speech, he could no longer doubt. Arthur had split: all was over. What had he better do? Attempt to brazen it out? That would be useless. The only course was to make a virtue of necessity. He would tell the Superintendent, and pretend he had been going to tell him in any case. He would represent his interview with Arthur as having been all a joke. In short, he would play the noble victim--swindled by Pasquett's villainy. Perhaps, after all, he might save his reputation out of the wreck. All this flashed through Lord Ealing's mind. There was scarcely a perceptible pause before he answered.

"I was coming to tell you the whole story at once, Superintendent. My nephew has only been here to-day. Of course, until his arrival, I had not the remotest idea."

It was Wilson's turn to be surprised. What had Arthur Wharton to do with it? How had he found out that Pasquett was concerned in the murder? Had some one else been doing some private detecting on his own? Wilson determined to let Lord Ealing talk.

"Of course," his lordship went on, "the news will have to be made public at once. But I thought it only right to inform you first, as you will doubtless wish to take action before anything is published. So glaring an imposture----"

"Imposture!" thought Wilson. "Does he mean Rosenbaum or something else?"

"So glaring an imposture will mean a long term of imprisonment, even if the fellow is not actually concerned in the murder. And it looks very much as if he was. At least, that is my opinion."

Wilson nodded, though he still could not make out what Lord Ealing meant.

"Of course," Lord Ealing went on, "this has been a great shock to me and to my nephew. Doubtless he has told you." His lordship looked keenly at Wilson as he said this, in the hope of discovering whether Arthur had given him, as well as Pasquett, away. But Wilson's face remained quite impassive, and he went on.

"I was thunderstruck, and shocked--shocked beyond measure. I had liked the man, I confess, and now, to discover that he is a mere impostor----"

"Impostor," thought Wilson. "A funny name to give to the crime."

"Stuns me--yes, stuns me. Arthur's discoveries, however, leave, I am afraid, no room for doubt. The man is not John Pasquett. He is a mere vulgar adventurer, who has deceived us all."

"What's that you say?" exclaimed Wilson, surprised into betraying himself. "Not John Pasquett? What do you mean?"

"Hasn't my nephew told you, then?" gasped Lord Ealing.

"I have not seen your nephew, my lord, and I shall be glad if you will explain what you mean. Do I understand you to say that you have discovered that the man who calls himself John Pasquett is not John Pasquett at all?"

"Well--er--my nephew--that is--I mean--my nephew suspects that--doubtless a foolish suspicion--Arthur has taken an idea into his head----"

"Lord Ealing, will you kindly tell me in plain English what you mean?"

"My nephew," began Lord Ealing, controlling himself with a great effort, "has been here to-day. He----" Lord Ealing stopped suddenly, clutched the table before him, and sank into a chair. "One of my heart attacks," he gasped. "Get me some brandy. Will you ring?" It was magnificent acting; indeed, it was only half acting. Lord Ealing did feel distinctly unwell. But he also wanted to gain time.

Wilson did not ring the bell. Instead, he produced a flask from his pocket, and administered a stiff dose of brandy to the great man. Then he said, "When you feel well enough, please go on with your story. I will wait."

This remark brought on a fresh paroxysm. "My doctor says," Lord Ealing gasped, "dangerous in any excitement--these attacks--might be fatal. I must lie down." He tottered to a sofa, lay down, and closed his eyes.

Wilson was in a difficult position. He had no doubt that, if he chose to wait, he could in the end make Lord Ealing speak. But Lord Ealing was a very great man, and even Wilson hesitated to bully him. After all, he had committed no punishable crime, so far as Wilson knew. Though his reluctance to speak was very suspicious. That heart attack did not deceive the Superintendent.

Wilson walked to the window, and stood there for a minute thinking. What Lord Ealing knew, apparently Arthur Wharton knew, too. It would pay him better to get it out of the nephew than to pump the uncle. Also, it would probably be much easier. He would seek Arthur Wharton at once, and catch him, if possible, before Lord Ealing had time to communicate with him. He went to the bell, and rang.

"His lordship has been taken ill," he said to the footman who answered his summons. "Will you look after him? I must go at once. Good-morning, my lord. I am sorry you are unwell. I will return when you are better."

He left the house, and, seeing a policeman at the corner, warned him to keep a watch and note carefully if Lord Ealing went out. He had a shrewd idea that his lordship's faintness would soon pass. Having set his guard, he hailed a taxi. Stopping at a call office, he gave orders to place a detective to shadow Lord Ealing. Then, hurrying back to his taxi, he drove straight to Arthur Wharton's flat.