Chapter III: In Which Mr. Alfred Culpepper Makes an Unexpected Appearance

As Blaikie threw open the door of the bedroom lately occupied by the missing Rosenbaum, he started back with a sudden exclamation.

"Listen!" he said to Lord Ealing.

Blaikie had reason to be astonished. From the room, supposed to be empty, came a curious succession of muffled little noises--faint scratching sounds that might have been rats, a curious creaking of woodwork, and with it a sort of stifled sighing, as if there was some one struggling feebly for breath. "My God, there is some one in there," said Blaikie.

"Radlett!" said Lord Ealing.

"The body," said Blaikie.

"If so, it's still alive," said Lord Ealing.

"Stand back, my lord, I must see."

Blaikie entered the room and looked round. There was no sign of any one. But he soon made out that the noises came from a fitted cupboard at the other end of the room. It was sunk in the panelled wall, and he had not noticed it before, when there had certainly been no such sounds emerging from it. The Inspector dashed to the cupboard and flung it open. All he saw was a pile of rugs and eiderdowns lying on the floor. But the pile was heaving as if somebody was imprisoned underneath. Blaikie seized them and threw them out on to the floor. When he saw what lay beneath he gave another cry.

"He's here. I've found him."

"Is it Radlett?" asked Lord Ealing, appearing from the sitting-room, where he had been continuing, still unsuccessfully, his search for the something he still strove feverishly to find.

"Will you lend a hand, my lord?" said the Inspector, drawing a human form, gagged and bound hand and foot, out of the cupboard. The form spluttered feebly, and its eyes glared angrily.

Lord Ealing came forward, and saw.

"That," he said, with an air of disgust, "that's not Radlett."

"Then who is it? Rosenbaum?" asked the Inspector, still, in his perplexity, making no attempt to untie the unfortunate man.

Lord Ealing had been staring at the prostrate figure. "It looks like a fellow called Culpepper," he said.

"Who on earth is Culpepper?" asked Blaikie. "What is he doing here?"

"I think," said Lord Ealing, "perhaps you had better undo him and inquire. He seems to be getting a little impatient."

The unfortunate creature was, indeed, struggling violently in his tight bonds, and making frantic efforts to speak through his gag. But he could only splutter. He had plainly been tied up by an expert.

Blaikie bent down, and, after a little difficulty, removed the gag. "Who the devil are you?" he asked, as soon as the man's mouth was free.

"D-d-d-damned scoundrel," said Mr. Culpepper.

"Oh, the villain," he squeaked. A sense of his wrongs overcame him and he began to cry.

"Come, come, what are you doing here, and what do you know about this affair?" said the Inspector. "Pull yourself together, man."

"L-l-left me here all this t-time," said Mr. Culpepper through his tears. "I heard you."

"Answer my question," said the Inspector. "Who are you?"

"Alf ... Alfred C-Culpepper. You m-might have un-t-t-t-tied me before."

"We did not know you were here," said the Inspector.

"A quite unexpected pleasure, Culpepper," said Lord Ealing.

"Now, what are you doing here?" asked Blaikie.

But this merely stimulated Mr. Culpepper's tears afresh. "Oh, a d-dreadful m-m-m-man!" he sobbed.

"What did he do to you?"

"T-t-t-t-tied me ... up," said Mr. Culpepper.

"Get the fellow a drink, Blaikie," said Lord Ealing. "That may cheer him up. And let me talk to him. I'll undo the rest of him."

Blaikie got a neat whisky and held it to Culpepper's lips, while Lord Ealing cut away his bonds. Then the two men helped him to his feet, and laid him down on the bed. He looked very small and feeble, as he lay there and blinked, coughing each time he swallowed a mouthful of the whisky.

"Who is he, my lord? You seem to know him."

"I know the fellow slightly. As it happens, he came to see me yesterday. His name is Alfred Culpepper, and he is a wholesale coal merchant, trading on the Continent. I believe his office is in Paris. That's all I know about him. I've not the slightest idea what he's doing here."

"Did he know Radlett?"

"Yes, he did. He had brought me letters from him once or twice. He had some dealings with my firm--the Anglo-Asiatic Corporation, you know."

"Let's see if he's well enough to talk yet. Now, my man, you try to answer my questions. How did you get into that cupboard?"

"I c-came to c-call."

"To call? On whom?"

"On Mr. R-R-Rad--R-R-R-Restington."

"That's all right. We know Mr. Restington's real name was Radlett. You came to call. When?"

"L-last night."

"Was Rosenbaum with Mr. Radlett when you called?"

This name was too much for Mr. Culpepper. "Oh, the dreadful villain," he said again.

"Who is a dreadful villain?"

"R-R-Ros--R-R-Rosenbaum. Oh, please, l-let me alone."

It took another stiff application of whisky to bring Mr. Culpepper back to a mood of reason.

At last, by a long process of cross-examination, in which Lord Ealing took the principal part, they extracted his story, mixed with a great deal of lamentation about his unhappy fate.

He had known Radlett years ago, in Asiatic Russia, where he had been in business as a merchant. His business had been destroyed by the Revolution, but he had been lucky enough to escape, and had finally set up for himself in Paris, and had built up a connection in the supply of coal to the countries of Central Europe. About a year before, he had run across Radlett, quite by accident, in Warsaw, and had given him his address. Since then, they had met and corresponded occasionally. Radlett told him when he would be in London, and, finding that he would be there on business at the same time, had asked him to call and see him at Sugden's Hotel. Accordingly, he had called on the previous afternoon, but had found Radlett out. He had come back after dinner, at about nine o'clock, and had then found Radlett and Rosenbaum together. They had sat up talking until late, and he had missed his last train. Radlett's secretary had gone to bed before that, and Radlett had given him a shake-down in his sitting-room, providing him with the rugs and wraps which had been found in the cupboard with him. He had gone to sleep on the sofa near the fire. Later, at what hour he could not say, except that it was still nearly dark, he had been awakened by a commotion coming from Radlett's bedroom. There were sounds of a struggle, of furniture being thrown down, and some cries. He had been terrified, and had stayed cowering where he was, wondering what he ought to do. Then the door of Radlett's bedroom had opened, and the secretary--Rosenbaum--had appeared, carrying Radlett's lifeless body. The light in the bedroom was on, and he could see plainly. He had sprung up, and Rosenbaum had seen him. He wanted to cry out, but he found he could not make a sound. Rosenbaum had dropped the body when he saw him, and whipped out a revolver. Covering Culpepper, he told him he was a dead man if he made a sound or moved an inch. The wretch had obeyed, and Rosenbaum, still keeping him covered with the revolver, had made him empty the big trunk which stood in the sitting-room and carry the contents--papers and mineral specimens--into Radlett's bedroom. Then he had made him help lift the body into the trunk, wedge it in with papers and clothes brought from the other room, and cord it up securely. Having done this, he had made Culpepper fetch a glass full of water from the bedroom, had poured into it something from a phial in his pocket, and bidden him drink it.

Fearing poison, Culpepper had prayed for mercy, but Rosenbaum had told him it would do him no harm, and had forced him to drink it by again threatening to shoot him. After that, he remembered nothing. He had lost consciousness, and had only come to himself when he heard voices and persons moving. He had tried to cry out; but he found he was gagged and bound, and he could neither move nor utter a syllable. The persons had gone away, and he had heard the door close. After a while, he wriggled himself a little free, so that he could utter faint sounds and scratch the woodwork of the place where he was confined. But the air was bad, and he was feeling very faint. It seemed to him as if many hours had passed, and he had lost consciousness several times, before he was finally discovered by Lord Ealing and the Inspector.

"At what time did all this happen?" asked Blaikie.

But Mr. Culpepper could give no idea of the time, except that it was beginning to get light when Rosenbaum made him pack the body in the trunk. Blaikie tried to get a more definite answer on this point, but without success. He tried another line.

"You knew this man Rosenbaum?" he asked.

Culpepper replied that he had never seen him until the previous day. Asked to describe him, he was hardly more explicit than the vague descriptions already furnished by the hotel servants. Rosenbaum was tall, dark-haired, with heavy beard and moustache, very foreign looking, and with a strong Russian accent. Undoubtedly a Russian Jew. Radlett had told him that the man was his secretary--a recent acquisition, and one in whose capability he took great pride.

"You say Rosenbaum had gone to bed before Radlett made you your shake-down on the sofa. Did Rosenbaum know you were staying the night?"

"No. He was t-taken quite aback when he saw me. W-hat he said was, 'You there, you little rat,' in Russian." Culpepper repeated the words as Rosenbaum, had said them.

"He must have passed through the sitting-room to Radlett's bedroom--probably in the dark--without noticing you on the sofa."

Culpepper agreed.

"Have you any idea why he wanted to take the body away?"

"He d-didn't say."

"I suppose you are quite sure Mr. Radlett was dead?" asked Lord Ealing.

Culpepper replied, with a shudder, that he was sure. Radlett looked ghastly, he said. His face was covered with blood, and there was blood all over his clothing.

"What was Mr. Radlett wearing?"

"He was in his p-pyjamas."

"Have you formed any view of the reason why Rosenbaum took Mr. Radlett's life?"

"None at all."

There was clearly nothing further to be got out of Mr. Culpepper. Blaikie called in his subordinate, and instructed him to 'phone to Scotland Yard for a man who could accompany Culpepper to his home. Culpepper explained that he was over on a short visit from Paris, and that he wished to go to his sister's house in Enfield, where he was staying. Blaikie told his assistant to arrange for him to be kept under observation by the local police. His story seemed clear enough, but the Inspector was not a man to overlook any possible clue to the case. He determined to find out all about Mr. Culpepper and his business in Paris and London.

There was still a good deal to be done at the hotel, especially in inquiring whether any one besides Culpepper had heard a noise in Radlett's rooms in the early hours of the morning. But this, Blaikie decided, could wait for an hour or two. There had been so many exciting developments that it was high time for him to report fully on the case to Superintendent Wilson at Scotland Yard. Moreover, there was Lord Ealing's story to be heard, and that he would only tell in the Superintendent's presence.

Blaikie saw the manager, and ensured that Radlett's rooms should remain undisturbed in his absence. He also had all the hotel guests informed that they must report on their movements, and hold themselves in readiness to answer any questions put to them. Then, leaving his assistant on guard at the hotel, Blaikie accepted Lord Ealing's invitation, and drove off with him to Scotland Yard in his car. He felt that he had done well so far, for though, to be sure, he might have found Mr. Culpepper a bit sooner, no harm had come of the delay. The Inspector was glowing with self-approval. Lord Ealing was still worried. He had not found what he wanted. Was it in the rooms, waiting for the police to find it? Or had the murderer got it? Or was it safely destroyed? Lord Ealing did not want either Rosenbaum or the police to have possession of that scrap of paper. Deuced awkward it would be if it came out!