IN WHICH MR. JOHN PASQUETT ARRIVES, AND SHOWS PARDONABLE IMPATIENCE
A week had passed since the day when Lord Ealing went without
his breakfast when John Pasquett walked into the offices of the
Anglo-Asiatic Corporation. He was told that Lord Ealing was not in the
office, and asked his business. The mention of his name not merely
smoothed the way, but created at once a flutter of excitement. For,
though Pasquett's name had not figured much in public, the staff of the
Anglo-Asiatic knew well enough that this must be Radlett's partner--the
man for whom the directors were so eagerly searching. Mr. Benjamin was
in the office. Would Mr. Pasquett be so good as to come in?
Pasquett went in. He was, as the Reval message had said, a big, fair
man, clean-shaven, and of fine physique. But he was much more than
that. He had one of those faces which are always half-smiling, as if
he was perpetually amused. There was a humorous twinkle in his eye,
too, and he was used to making friends at sight. It would have been
hard to guess his nationality. There was something American about his
voice, but it was not American. There was something French, especially
about the inflections of his speech, yet it was not quite French. And
his easy, confident manners were of no country in particular; they
proclaimed him rather the travelled man of the world, at home in all
companies--a man to whom all things came much alike, and most things
pleasantly. No wonder Radlett had made a friend of John Pasquett: he
had a knack of making friends, and of keeping them.
He and Benjamin made a curious contrast as they shook hands. The
little Jew was obviously excited. "Ah, Mr. Pasquett, I am very glad
to see you. I have sent a message to Lord Ealing to say that you are
here. He, too, will be greatly--delighted. Ach, but it is a terrible
business--this. You have heard?"
The smile left Pasquett's face as he replied, "Glad to see you, sir. I
had heard nothing till yesterday. I have come at once, as you see." And
he pulled from his pocket a copy of the _Matin_ of the day before, and
passed it across the table. "This is almost all I know even now."
Little Mr. Benjamin took the paper and adjusted his pince-nez. Pasquett
had marked a paragraph which stated that it had now been proved that
the murder of Hugh Radlett was the work of a dangerous Bolshevik
desperado, by name Rosenbaum, who was believed to be still at large in
England. The police, it added, had a clue to his whereabouts.
"When I saw that, I was thunderstruck," Pasquett continued. "Of course,
I sent for a file of the _Matin_ and the _Temps_, and there I found
some further particulars of the case. But I know very little. I came at
once to see if I could give any help, though I fear I can be of little
use. He was my best friend, Mr. Benjamin. It is a terrible shock to me."
"My dear sir, I understand. We, too, we have been much distressed."
"Would you, Mr. Benjamin, kindly tell me at once what you know of
the--murder? I suppose there is no doubt of my poor friend's death,
though I understand the body had not been found."
"That is so, Mr. Pasquett. And I fear there is little doubt. Though,
I believe, at one time the police half thought Mr. Radlett had been
carried off."
"Carried off? Do you mean he may be alive? Have they any clue? Have
they searched?"
"Lord Ealing will be able to tell you more than I can. He will
doubtless be with us soon. Your pardon, the telephone. Yes. Lord Ealing
will be here in a few minutes. Meanwhile, I will tell you what I know."
Benjamin then gave a rapid summary of the case, as far as he knew it,
telling Pasquett what had been discovered at Sugden's Hotel. When he
mentioned Culpepper, Pasquett gave a cry of surprise. "Culpepper was
there?" he said. "Yes, in the cupboard," said Mr. Benjamin gravely, and
told him what Culpepper had seen.
"The little rat," said Pasquett. "He might have caught the fellow."
"I think he thought discretion the better part," said Benjamin, and
went on to tell Pasquett of the fact that Mr. Franklin, Radlett's
lawyer, had the concession and certain other important documents
deposited with him by Radlett the day before the crime. But, when he
spoke of these, Pasquett sharply but politely pulled him up.
"No, no, Mr. Benjamin. Never mind the papers. No business for me just
yet. I have come here to find poor Hugh's murderer, and, by God, I mean
to do it.... Forgive me if I am violent, Mr. Benjamin; I'm not quite
myself. This affair has upset me."
"Naturally, my dear sir, naturally," said Mr. Benjamin, soothingly.
"Now, about this Rosenbaum," Pasquett had begun, when Lord Ealing came
hastily into the room. Mr. Benjamin muttered an introduction, and
retired into the background.
John Pasquett greeted Lord Ealing with his pleasant smile. He had
recovered his self-possession by now. "I came to you first," he said.
"I do not know a single soul in England--except Culpepper, if he's
still here."
"Where are you staying?"
"At the Avenue Hotel, at present. I am a stranger to London."
"Ah, we can do better than that ... better than that. I shall be
offended if you do not put up with me. In Berkeley Square, you know.
Then we can arrange matters at our leisure."
"I was just telling Mr. Benjamin business could wait till this matter
of poor Hugh's death is cleared up."
"Oh, of course, of course. I have been doing all I can, I assure you.
Everything that could be done to stir the police to action, I have
done. Believe me, you had better come to Berkeley Square. The police
know me. They will give you most help if you're with me. I used to be
Home Secretary, you know."
Pasquett seemed unwilling at first to avail himself of Lord Ealing's
ready hospitality. But at length he agreed, with very hearty thanks.
The argument that it would help with the police seemed to have won him
over.
"So that's settled. Now, what has Benjamin told you?"
"Just a brief summary of the case, my lord. No business," Mr. Benjamin
put in.
"No, of course, of course. Now, I dare say I can tell you some things
Benjamin doesn't know."
Before long, Lord Ealing had made Pasquett thoroughly master of the
case in all its details--except certain little details about himself
which he believed to be unknown to the police. He did not attempt to
talk business, anxious as he was to do so; for he was even more anxious
to win John Pasquett's regard and to establish close relations between
them. Only one thing he was insistent upon. Pasquett must see Mr.
Franklin at the earliest possible moment, because Franklin had very
important communications to make to him at Radlett's personal request.
And he must say nothing to any one else till he had seen Franklin. "I
can drive you there now," he said, "and then we can go on to Scotland
Yard."
But Pasquett would not agree. "No. I must go to Scotland Yard at once,"
he said. "I ought really to have gone there immediately I landed.
Franklin can wait."
"Surely he may have things to say you ought to know before you see the
police."
"If he has, I can see the police again. No, Lord Ealing, I will not
lose more time. I must see at once if I can do anything to put the
police on the track of the criminal. You admit it is just possible poor
Hugh may still be alive. You see that not a moment must be lost."
Lord Ealing gave in gracefully. "I'll drive you to Scotland Yard," he
said. "I'll just 'phone through first and say we're coming. Benjamin,
get me on to Wilson, will you?"
And so Superintendent Wilson received the message which told him of
John Pasquett's arrival in England.
* * * * *
"So you have not seen Mr. Radlett since you parted from him at Reval?"
It was Superintendent Wilson who asked the question.
"No," said Pasquett. "You see, he left me to go off to Moscow. He was
to see the Commissary of Labour and fix up about the conditions of
employment when we got to work. I had a letter from him, written from
Moscow, telling me about when he would be in London, and asking me to
join him here about now. I had certain business arrangements to make
before joining him. I have been in Warsaw, and have just come back from
Poland."
"You came through Prague, I suppose?" Lord Ealing put in.
"No, I had to go to Posen and then to Berlin. I came straight through
from there to Paris, and only arrived in London this morning. It was in
Paris I first heard about Hugh Radlett." Again Pasquett got the copy of
yesterday's _Matin_ out of his pocket, and looked at it. "And now I'm
here to help you find Hugh's murderer." Pasquett smiled a sad smile at
the Superintendent as he spoke. "I suppose the paper's right about this
Rosenbaum having done it."
"Right enough, I fear. A most desperate character. You say Mr. Radlett
never mentioned him to you?"
"Never heard of the fellow in my life. I can't think where poor Hugh
picked him up."
"That's one of the odd points about the case, it seems to me," said
Wilson.
"Now, look here, Mr. Wilson. I'm not a rich man, but you can take it
that every penny I have goes to find the man who killed poor Hugh. And
you can use me in any way you like. I want to be used. I shan't be at
peace unless I'm doing something. It knocks a man over--a thing like
this."
"Yes, Mr. Pasquett; but I think we are doing all that can be done." And
Wilson, who had already given Pasquett a full outline of the case, told
him briefly exactly what the police were doing to locate Rosenbaum.
"Yet you haven't found him, so far. That means he's lying pretty low.
And you haven't traced the fellow beyond London Bridge--or found the
trunk, or really discovered anything. Sorry if I seem a bit ungracious,
Superintendent. But that's about the state of the case, isn't it?"
Wilson had to admit that it was, but information might come to hand at
any minute. There were a number of men out on the job.
"But when this paper said you had a clue, it was talking through its
hat?"
Wilson laughed. "You're very frank, Mr. Pasquett. But I'm afraid you're
not far wrong."
Pasquett got up from his chair, and walked to the window. He stood
there for a minute staring out. Then he spoke.
"Well, sir, I'm going to make a suggestion to you. I never heard of
this man Rosenbaum, but I do know Russia and Russians. What about my
trying a little private detecting on my own? I can tell them I've come
from Russia, and that I'm keen on re-establishing Anglo-Russian trade
and seeing the Soviet Government given a fair chance--which is true
enough, by the way. I can go about making speeches to the 'comrades'
and keep my eyes open. I may be able to spot this Rosenbaum for you.
Of course, I shan't go under my own name, in case they know it. What do
you say?"
"My dear Mr. Pasquett," said Lord Ealing, "I hope you will do nothing
of the sort. I'm sure, Wilson, you ought not to allow it. A most
foolhardy proposal."
Pasquett smiled. "I've done much more foolhardy things in my time, Lord
Ealing," he said. "Besides, I don't think there's much danger in it. I
know how to look after myself."
"Of course," said Wilson, "if Mr. Pasquett does anything of the sort,
he will need to have the fullest protection from the police."
"No--thanks all the same. No police protection for me. It would mean
being spotted at once. It wouldn't give me half a chance. I mean to get
right among them, mind you."
"But," said Lord Ealing, "you must not risk your life. Everything hangs
on you, now----"
"Mr. Pasquett is quite right," said Wilson. "If he does this, and I am
very doubtful if he should--he had better do it on his own. Of course,
we can arrange for the police to be ready to help him at any moment, if
they are needed."
"Then you agree?" said Pasquett, grasping the Superintendent by the
hand. "Excellent! I'll make my arrangements at once." He turned to Lord
Ealing. "But I fear it means no Berkeley Square for me just yet. Will
you let me off?"
"My dear fellow, you'll be welcome, whenever you come. But do let me
persuade you not to do this foolhardy and quite useless thing. Believe
me, the police will find out all there is to be found out. Detecting
is not a job for amateurs, except in the novels. You'll do no good,
and you'll only get into trouble."
"See here, Lord Ealing, I want to be good friends with you, and with
every one else. But you and Mr. Wilson have got to understand right
now that Hugh Radlett comes first with me, and that everything else
must stand aside till this affair is cleared up. I couldn't rest, doing
nothing. Even if I'm likely to do no good, I must try. And Mr. Wilson
here thinks I might do some good, don't you?"
"Lord Ealing's attitude," said Wilson, "is very complimentary to the
police. But, in this case, I confess we are making no progress, and
should welcome outside help."
"Then that's that," said Pasquett. "I hope you won't be offended, Lord
Ealing. You see how I feel."
"My dear chap, I understand perfectly. I honour you for it. But----"
"Please, no 'buts.' I know I'm worrying you. I'll try to make up for it
later."
An attractive fellow, thought Lord Ealing to himself. Even on him, John
Pasquett's personality was beginning to exercise its fascination.
Wilson had made up his mind. Taking something from a drawer, he wrote a
few words. Then he handed across the table a small badge. "If you show
this," he said, "you'll get the full help of the police whenever you
want it. I wish you luck. Have you any plan?"
"Only to go wherever these Bolshevik fellows hang out, tell my story
and what I've seen in Russia, and pick up what I can. Where do they
hang out for a start? I'm a stranger here. I'll tell them I'm an
American. I really am a Canadian, you know."
Then followed a conversation in which Pasquett learnt what was known
to the police about the various Bolshevik groups in England, and their
headquarters and places of meeting. He announced that he would begin
with a call at King Street, and try to see Ross, whom the police seemed
to regard as the real leader of the British extremists. Thereafter, he
would know better how to proceed. He would keep his rooms at the Avenue
Hotel while his investigation was in progress, and come to Lord Ealing
as soon as it was over.
When the door closed on Pasquett and Lord Ealing, Superintendent Wilson
was left thinking hard. Pasquett had been able to tell him little. He
had never heard of Rosenbaum, Radlett's secretary, and the inference
was that Radlett had picked the fellow up during his recent visit to
Russia. This seemed likely enough, and bore out the conclusion that
Radlett had been the victim of an extremist plot. He had told Pasquett
in his letter, written from Moscow, that he had received anonymous
threatening letters, menacing his life unless he abandoned the
concession. But he had said also that he did not take these seriously,
as they came only from factions hostile to the Soviet Government.
Wilson reckoned himself a good judge of men, and Pasquett had appealed
to him at once, not only as a pleasant and very straightforward person,
but also as shrewd and thoroughly capable.
He was running, indeed, a very serious risk; for presumably the man
who had put Hugh Radlett out of the way would be equally anxious to
prevent Pasquett from taking up the concession. Still, his identity
might not be discovered, and American visitors to England had a way
of poking about among the extremist organisations which would help to
disarm suspicion. And the police had not made such progress with the
case that they could afford to neglect offers of outside assistance.
Rosenbaum must be found.
But why had Lord Ealing been so anxious to dissuade Pasquett from
undertaking this mission? Wilson's suspicions about that nobleman
would keep coming back into his mind. Of course, the explanation
might be only that he wanted to get down to business at once, and
that Pasquett's pre-occupation with the murder stood in the way. But
was that all? Or was it the case that Lord Ealing was really afraid
that Pasquett would find Rosenbaum where the police had failed? There
was something odd, something almost furtive, about the late Home
Secretary's attitude. "Oh, damn!" said the Superintendent softly to
himself.
Blaikie came in, with some news. A message had at last come from the
British Trade Commission at Moscow, but it told them nothing. Hugh
Radlett, the Commissioner said, had been negotiating with the Soviet
Government for a big concession. So much he knew, and he had heard
of Rosenbaum as a well-known agent of the Third International. But
he could not trace any connection between Rosenbaum and Radlett, nor
could--or would--the Russian authorities throw any light on Rosenbaum's
present whereabouts. He had not met Radlett, or heard of his being in
Moscow for some time, but the Russian authorities would give him no
information, and he could say nothing with certainty. Of Pasquett he
had never heard, and the name "Restington" conveyed nothing to him.
Wilson said he had expected nothing from Moscow; indeed, there was
hardly anything to expect. Blaikie's second piece of news was of
greater interest. He had at last found the man who had driven Rosenbaum
from London Bridge to Charing Cross, and here, it appeared, Rosenbaum
had behaved in exactly the same way as at the previous stations. He had
asked a porter to mind his luggage for a few minutes, and had then got
yet another cab, and driven off again. Blaikie had found the porter,
who remembered both Rosenbaum and the trunk.
"But didn't you ask all the porters at Charing Cross before?"
"Yes; but this chap was away ill with influenza when I made my
inquiries, and I missed him."
"I see. Have you found out where Rosenbaum went after leaving Charing
Cross?"
"No. I'm trying, of course. I've been now to all the big stations in
London again in order to make sure whether he repeated this trick any
more times. But I can't find traces of him at any of the others."
"The probability is he didn't go by train at all--at least then. All
this business of the railway stations was obviously meant to throw us
off the track. Probably in the end he hired a car. It's too big a job,
I fear, to inquire of all the private car agencies, but you might try a
selected list."
"I'll try, sir. But I'm not hopeful of tracing the fellow that way.
Even if we do find how he started off, the scent will be pretty cold by
now."
"Any answers to those inquiries about the passenger who was with him on
the ship coming over?"
"We've found several of them, but none of them seems to have noticed
Rosenbaum, or spoken to him. There's a man who spoke with Radlett, we
think, but they only passed the time of day."
"Well, Inspector, it's a case, I'm afraid, of trusting to luck. We've
done all we can. Unless this Rosenbaum or some clue to where he is
turns up by a lucky chance, I don't see what we can do. It looks bad.
And now I have a new job for you."
Wilson then told Inspector Blaikie about Pasquett's return and the plan
which he had suggested, and instructed him, unostentatiously, to keep
half an eye on him, lest he might get into mischief.
"I suppose Pasquett's all right, sir. Doesn't he stand to get all
Radlett's money?"
Wilson hesitated before replying. "I think he is all right," he said
slowly. "He seems to have been in Warsaw when it all happened, and his
own story tallies exactly with what we heard from the Polish police."
"Still, sir, might it be as well to make sure?"
"Quite, quite. I was meaning to wire again to the Berlin police for
confirmation. But I've seen Pasquett and he looks to me all right.
He impressed me very favourably, though it doesn't do to trust one's
impressions too far. But you'll say so, too, Blaikie, when you've met
him."
"Shall I wire to Berlin, sir?"
"By all means. As a matter of routine, we ought to make quite sure."
"Not necessary to send a man out, I suppose?"
"Oh, no. The Berlin police will tell us all we want."