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.