Chapter IV: In Which Superintendent Wilson Hears the Story of a Great Concession

Superintendent Wilson received Lord Ealing and Inspector Blaikie in his room. Two hours had passed since he had received, over the telephone, Blaikie's first intimation of the nature of the affair, and of the identity of the victim. At once he had set his men to work. Every routine precaution that could be taken in order to prevent Rosenbaum's escape had been taken without the loss of a moment. It would be ill-luck indeed if the fellow contrived to slip through the network of the police system which the Superintendent so efficiently controlled. The taxi-driver who had taken up Rosenbaum at the hotel was even now being searched for; several suspicious characters had already been detained at the docks. But for any measures going beyond routine, the Superintendent had perforce to await the result of Blaikie's investigations on the spot. When the Inspector 'phoned a second time to say that Lord Ealing himself wished to come round to the Yard and make a statement, Wilson at once decided to receive his distinguished visitor in person, and to give his own best attention to the case. In the meantime, he put it out of his mind. "I shall only get a wrong idea," he said to himself, "if I start theorising without some further data."

Superintendent Wilson was at this time easily the most celebrated detective in England--official or unofficial. In one case after another he had proved his capacity, both as an investigator and as a leader of men. He was an excellent investigator himself, but he was best of all at guiding the work of his subordinates. His was the co-ordinating brain that had raised Scotland Yard to a standard of efficiency hitherto unknown in its long career. When foolish persons asked him for the secret of his success, he made invariably the same reply. "I never get flurried," he would say; "I just think." To his friends he would add that all his best work was due to his wife. He would tell her all about his most difficult cases, and she would never fail, he said, to give him just the hint he needed in order to arrive at the truth. And, if you questioned Mrs. Wilson, she would laugh and say, "I'm sure, my dear, I don't do anything. But Henry likes telling me. I let him talk, and he says it helps him." Then she would resume talking about the children--her one unfailing topic of conversation.

Wilson received Lord Ealing deferentially, and yet with familiarity. Lord Ealing had been Home Secretary in the last Government but three, and Inspector Wilson, as he then was, had done good service, and been complimented on his skill in solving the Sussex Street case, which had promised to lead to certain awkward political complications. Lord Ealing knew that the Superintendent had brains, and Wilson did not under-rate Lord Ealing's abilities. He also knew a thing or two about that nobleman which Lord Ealing fondly believed to be quite unsuspected in official quarters. The Superintendent had few illusions left. He approached the case with an open mind, well assured that Lord Ealing would tell just as much, or just as little, as it suited him to tell. Of course, it might suit him to tell everything. If so, well and good. On the other hand, it might not: in that case, Wilson was ready to use his wits for reading between the lines.

He rose as the two men entered, and motioned Lord Ealing to a chair opposite his own. Blaikie took a seat beside his chief.

"If your lordship is willing," said Wilson, "I should like the Inspector to hear what you have to say. He has the case in hand. Thank you, my lord. Blaikie, you have your notes?"

"How I came to be mixed up in this affair----" began Lord Ealing.

"One moment, my lord. I do not yet know how the case stands. I think it will be best if the Inspector begins by giving me a full account of what he had found out so far, and then you can tell us what you know."

"My time is valuable," said Lord Ealing.

"I am sorry; but I think you will realise that my way is best, my lord."

Wilson's manner was still deferential, but his words were peremptory. They said to Lord Ealing plainly that he was Home Secretary no longer, and that the representative of Scotland Yard would stand no nonsense even from the richest man in England.

Lord Ealing drew himself up resentfully. Then he laughed. "Oh, have it your own way, Wilson," he said, "only hurry up."

"Thank you, my lord. Now, Inspector."

Slowly and methodically, Inspector Blaikie related exactly what he had found at the hotel, and what inferences he had made. His chief listened, with eyes closed, as his way was, legs thrust out in front of him and the tips of his fingers pressed tightly together. Occasionally he asked a question, in order to clear up a point of fact; occasionally, too, he made a note on the memorandum block before him. But he offered no comment. Even when Blaikie related the discovery of Mr. Culpepper in the cupboard, he only said, "Hm." And when Inspector Blaikie had done all he said was, "Thank you, Inspector. Now, my lord, it is your turn." And again he closed his eyes and composed himself to listen. Lord Ealing said afterwards that it was like talking to a dictaphone--a machine that recorded everything and gave nothing back.

"I had better begin at the beginning," said Lord Ealing. "You probably know that I am Chairman of the Anglo-Asiatic Commercial Corporation. About six months ago I received a letter, addressed to me personally, from Mr. Hugh Radlett, the American millionaire." Wilson nodded. "I was naturally very much surprised, for I remembered the excitement caused by his disappearance from America eight years ago--the result of some family trouble, I believe. Nothing, so far as I knew, had been heard of him since. In his letter, Mr. Radlett stated that he had spent these eight years in Asiatic Russia--a good part of them in prison. He had passed safely, though not with comfort, through the successive revolutions and counter-revolutions which had swept over Siberia, and he had just come from Moscow, where he had been arranging for a great commercial venture. He----"

"Did you notice the post-mark of his letter?"

"Yes, it was posted at Reval. Mr. Radlett began by reminding me of certain past business dealings between him and the Anglo-Asiatic, and said that, though he had not met me personally, he hoped these would serve as an introduction."

"Then you did not know Mr. Radlett?"

"No. I met him for the first time yesterday. He had spent these years, as I say, in Russia, apparently with no very definite object in view. There he had met a man named John Pasquett, a French-Canadian by origin, whom he had previously known slightly in America. They had become friends, and Pasquett had told him a tale, which at first he had not believed, of a fabulously rich deposit of gold he had discovered when prospecting on the Yenisei River. Pasquett was a gold-mining expert. Radlett had at length been induced to accompany him on a visit to the place where the gold was, and, by thorough tests, he had proved beyond all possible doubt that what Pasquett said was true. He had then agreed, in the autumn of 1916, to go into the thing with Pasquett. They drew up a deed of partnership, under which Radlett was to supply the capital and they were to share equally in the proceeds, Pasquett's discovery of the gold ranking as his contribution.

"The two men then started out for Petrograd, with the object of negotiating with the Czar's Government for a concession of the whole gold-bearing area. Of course, Radlett was immensely wealthy, and could readily have financed even so big a thing. But they never reached their destination. While they were on their way, the first Revolution broke out--early in 1917--and they were both arrested under suspicion of being Czarist agents, and thrown into prison somewhere in Siberia. The next four years they seem to have spent mostly in prison, but at last they escaped, or were released--I am not quite sure which--and succeeded in getting to Moscow. At least, Radlett did. Pasquett apparently had escaped, too, but I am not sure whether he went to Moscow with Radlett.

"At Moscow, Radlett at length succeeded in opening up negotiations with the Bolshevik Government. The Soviets, he said, seemed firmly established, and he did not see why he should not get the concession out of them, where he had meant to get it from the Czarist Government. He found they were anxious to attract foreign capitalists, especially Americans. As you know, they badly wanted recognition from the United States.

"At length he was successful. He obtained, from Lenin himself, a signed and sealed concession of the whole area he had surveyed with Pasquett, for a period of thirty years, and subject to a number of conditions.

"All this time he was still working in close association with Pasquett, and the concession was made out in their joint names, with power to add other partners, subject to the Government's consent. The question was how to proceed. Radlett's difficulty was that, as the United States had refused to recognise the Soviet Government, he could expect no protection from the American authorities. Pasquett, however, was a British subject, and he felt the concession would be a great deal more secure if they could get the protection of the British Government behind it. There was a trade agreement in force between Great Britain and Russia, and they resolved to enlist British help. Radlett said he naturally thought at once of the Anglo-Asiatic as the biggest British concern interested in Siberian development. He therefore wrote to me, asking whether my board would be likely to consider a definite offer to come in with them. If so, either he or Pasquett would come over to London in order to discuss matters fully, and to place in our hands full proofs of the soundness of the enterprise. If I thought well of the scheme, he asked me to reply at once to 'Robertson, Poste Restante, Reval,' cabling simply the one word, 'Come.'

"I talked matters over informally with my Board, and they thought the scheme worth considering. I therefore cabled. Several more letters passed between us. In his final letter, Radlett gave some further details about the terms of the concession, and said he would come to London at once with mineral specimens and all the necessary documents. He mentioned an approximate date for his arrival, and asked me to book a suite for him at the best quiet hotel I knew. His secretary, he said, would accompany him, and Pasquett would follow a little later. He also asked me to recommend him to a thoroughly reliable solicitor, and I advised him to go to Mr. Franklin, to whom the letter found in his rooms was addressed."

At this point the Superintendent asked Lord Ealing to pause for a moment, while he sent a message. Over the internal telephone he then told a police officer to go at once to Mr. Franklin's office, and bring him to Scotland Yard as soon as he could be found. This done, he asked Lord Ealing to go on with his story.

"I then engaged rooms for Radlett at Sugden's Hotel. Four days ago I received a wire from Paris saying that he would arrive on the seventeenth; that is, yesterday. During the afternoon of yesterday he called at my office, and found me just leaving for an important meeting. We did no more than exchange a few words, and arrange to breakfast together at his hotel this morning. You know the rest. I think that is all I can tell you."

"At what time did you arrange to breakfast with Mr. Radlett?"

"Nine o'clock. I wrote it down."

"That's curious," the Inspector broke in. "He ordered breakfast for 9.30, and said he was not to be called until ten past nine."

"I suppose he made a mistake about the time. I am quite certain he said nine o'clock."

"Do you know at all," asked the Superintendent, "what else Mr. Radlett did in London yesterday?"

"He told me he had lunched at the hotel, and that he had a lot to do; but I did not inquire further."

"Did he say anything of importance while he was with you?"

"We were hardly together ten minutes. As far as I remember, he said it was a great pleasure to be back in civilised surroundings again, and thanked me for fixing him up so comfortably. About the business matter, he only said he was sure it was a thoroughly sound thing."

"I suppose his secretary--this man Rosenbaum--was not with him. Did he mention him at all?"

"No. He was alone. He had spoken of his secretary in one of his letters, but he did not mention him yesterday."

"In the letter, did he tell you anything about him?"

"No. He did not even mention his name."

"About this concession. I understand it was a big thing."

"Distinctly. If it came off, both he and my Board were to find a million pounds apiece. More might have been needed later to develop it fully."

"Who could have had an interest in stopping the whole affair?"

"So far as I am aware, no one in this country had heard of it, except myself and my Board. Though, of course, there had been rumours. Of course, I cannot answer for Russia."

"You mean that it looks as if the source of this murder were in Russia. That, of course, would make it difficult to trace. We have no connection now with the Russian police."

"Mr. Pasquett, when he comes, may be able to throw some light on it."

"Yes, I suppose you have not heard from him."

"No. We have never been in direct touch with Mr. Pasquett. He is expected here in a week or so, I believe."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"I have not the least idea. 'Robertson & Co., Post Restante, Reval,' is the only address I have ever had for either of them."

"We will, of course, make inquiries at Reval. And, if you hear, you will please let us know at once. I shall be glad if you will lend me those letters and cables you have had from Mr. Radlett. They may possibly tell us something further. I know your time is precious, Lord Ealing, I won't keep you any longer."

Superintendent Wilson had risen from his seat, and was holding out his hand. Lord Ealing took it. "You understand," he said, "that my Board will be most anxious to have this matter cleared up--and to get in touch with Mr. Pasquett as soon as possible."

"Certainly, my lord. You may rely on us to do our best."

Lord Ealing then went away, leaving the two police officers alone. Wilson turned at once to Blaikie. "You get straight back to the hotel," he said, "and find out what more you can. Somebody must have heard something. Then 'phone me up, and we'll have a late lunch together, and discuss the whole case."

"What do you make of it, sir?"

"Oh, it looks simple enough. Murder--by this Russian fellow, Rosenbaum. But there are some queer features about it. I don't know yet. I want to think."

When Blaikie had gone, Wilson plunged his hands deep into his pockets, put his feet on the desk, closed his eyes, and settled down to think things over. Why on earth had the murderer gone off with the body?