AUSTRIA: Murder on the Express?

After three years as U.S. naval attache in Rumania, genial Captain Eugene-("Fish") Karpe, 45, was on his way home for reassignment. At Vienna, the burly former destroyer commander visited the wife and sister-in-law of his old friend and fellow Annapolisman, Robert Vogeler, the American businessman jailed as a spy by Communist Hungary (TIME, Feb. 27). Mrs. Vogeler gave him her husband's silver lighter—"to keep until you can give it back to Bob." Then Captain Karpe boarded the blue-and-gold Arlberg-Orient Express for Paris.

A touch of gout caused him to limp a bit as he climbed aboard the train, but otherwise, as far as anyone could remember later, Fish Karpe seemed his usual relaxed and cheerful self.

The Arlberg-Orient is one of the Continent's glamour trains, a storied track for international diplomats and international intrigue. Karpe had Compartment ll of the Bucharest sleeper. There were six other passengers in the car, including two friends, Secretary John Oliver Wright II, of the British legation in Bucharest, and Mrs. Wright. The Britons were accompanied by two countrymen—a king's messenger (or diplomatic courier) and his military guard.

At Salzburg, in the U.S. zone in Western Austria, Karpe chatted on the platform with friends who had come to say goodbye. He was happy to be going home, he said. A small, shifty-eyed stranger lolled in the background, staring at Karpe and listening to the talk, but no one paid much attention at the time. Shortly after 12:30 p.m. the Arlberg pulled out of Salzburg.

Fifteen minutes later the Wrights saw

Captain Karpe walking forward in the train to the diner. He passed through the crowded Bucharest day coach, sat down at a table with an American student. Karpe complained a bit about his aching leg, drank only a bottle of seltzer water for his meal. Then he left the table.

Neither the Wrights, the king's messenger nor the messenger's guard saw Karpe return to Compartment ll. "I would have seen him," said the guard later. "I kept the door of my compartment open purposely to watch the girls pass by—it's an old habit."

Coincidence. At ten minutes past 2 p.m., a railway repairman found Karpe's mangled, 'dismembered body scattered along the track in Lueg Pass tunnel, not far out of Salzburg. Had he fallen or had he been thrown from the train?

U.S. Army occupation police said that they found no specific evidence of "foul play." On the other hand, U.S. Intelligence officers thought that it was murder. By coincidence, the Arlberg-Orient had made an unscheduled half-hour stop, to permit traffic to clear, at the village of Goiling, just three minutes from Lueg tunnel. Passengers had opened doors and stepped down to stroll and smoke on both sides of the train.

When the Arlberg got under way again, trainmen had fastened the doors only on the station side; they forgot the loose doors on the other side. It was from this side that Karpe had fallen. Then, by coincidence, the train's lights had not gone on as usual in the tunnel. By coincidence, said train officials, it was possible that the Arlberg's lurch, as it rounded a curve toward the tunnel's end, had swung open an unfastened door and that Karpe had plunged through it in the dark.