CHAPTER XV
THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION
The offices of Mr. Bentham were situated at the extreme end of a dingy,depressing looking street which ran from the Adelphi to the EmbankmentGardens. It was a street of private hotels which no one had ever heardof, and where apparently no one ever stayed. A few cranky institutions,existing under the excuse of charity, had their offices there, and a firmof publishers, whose glory was of the past, still dragged out theiruncomfortable and profitless existence in a building whose dusty windowsand smoke-stained walls sufficiently proclaimed their fast approachingextinction. They found the name of Mr. Bentham upon a rusty brass plateoutside the last building in the street, with the additional intimationthat his offices were upon the first floor. There they found him, withoutclerks, without even an errand boy, in a large bare apartment overlookingthe embankment. The room was darkened by the branches of one of a row ofelm trees, and the windows themselves were curtainless. There was nocarpet upon the floor, no paper upon the walls, no rows of tin boxes,none of the usual surroundings of a lawyer's office. The solicitor, whohad bidden them enter, did not at first offer them any salutation. Hepaused in a letter which he was writing and his eyes rested for a momentupon Wrayson, and for a second or two longer upon his companion.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bentham!" Wrayson said. "My name is Wrayson--youremember me, I daresay."
"I remember you certainly, Mr. Wrayson," the lawyer answered. His eyeswere resting once more upon Sydney Barnes.
"This," Wrayson explained, "is Mr. Sydney Barnes, a brother of the Mr.Morris Barnes, who was, I believe, a client of yours."
"Scarcely," the lawyer murmured, "a client of mine, although I mustconfess that I was anxious to secure him as one. Possibly if he had liveda few more hours, the epithet would have been in order."
Wrayson nodded.
"From a letter which we found in Mr. Barnes' desk," he remarked, "weconcluded that some business was pending between you. Hence our visit."
Mr. Bentham betrayed no sign of interest or curiosity of any sort.
"I regret," he said, "that I cannot offer you chairs. I am notaccustomed to receive my clients here. If you care to be seated uponthat form, pray do so."
Wrayson glanced at the form and declined. Sydney Barnes seemed scarcelyto have heard the invitation. His eyes were glued upon the lawyer's face.
"Will you tell me precisely," Mr. Bentham said, "in what way I can be ofservice to you?"
"I want to know where my brother's money is," Barnes declared, stepping alittle forward. "Two thousand a year he had. We've seen it in hisbank-book. Five hundred pounds every quarter day! And we can't find acopper! You were his lawyer, or were going to be. You must have knownsomething about his position."
Mr. Bentham looked straight ahead with still, impassive face. No traceof the excitement in Sydney Barnes' face was reflected in his features.
"Two thousand a year," he repeated calmly. "It was really as much asthat, was it? Your brother had, I believe, once mentioned the amount tome. I had no idea, though, that it was quite so large."
"I am his heir," the young man declared feverishly. "I'll take my oaththere's no one else. I'm going to take out letters of administration. Hehadn't another relation on God's earth."
Mr. Bentham regarded the young man thoughtfully.
"Have you any idea, Mr. Barnes," he asked, "as to the source ofthis income?"
"Of course I haven't," Barnes answered. "That's why we're here. You mustknow something about it."
"Your brother was not my client," the lawyer said slowly. "If his deathhad not been quite so sudden, I think that he might have been. As it is,I know very little of his affairs. I am afraid that I can be of verylittle use to you."
"You must know something," Barnes declared doggedly. "You must tell uswhat you do know."
"Your brother was," Mr. Bentham said, "a very remarkable man. Has itnever occurred to you, Mr. Barnes, that this two thousand a year mighthave been money received in payment of services rendered--might havebeen, in short, in the nature of a salary?"
"Not likely," Barnes answered, contemptuously. "Morris did no work atall. He did nothing but just enjoy himself and spend money."
"Nothing but enjoy himself and spend money," Mr. Bentham repeated. "Ah!Did you see a great deal of your brother during the last few years?"
"I saw nothing of him at all. I was out in South Africa. I have only justgot back. Not but that I'd been here long ago," the young man added, witha note of exasperation in his tone, "if I'd had any idea of the luck hewas in. Why, I lent him a bit to come back with, though I was onlyearning thirty bob a week, and the brute only sent it me back in bits,and not a farthing over."
"That was not considerate of him," Mr. Bentham agreed--"not at allconsiderate. Your brother had the command of considerable sums of money.In fact, Mr. Barnes, I may tell you, without any breach of confidence, Ithink that if he had kept his appointment with me on the night when hewas murdered, I was prepared, on behalf of my client, to hand him acheque for ten thousand pounds!"
Barnes struck the table before him with his clenched fist.
"For what?" he cried, hysterically. "Ten thousand pounds for what?"
"Your brother," Mr. Bentham said calmly, "was possessed of securitieswhich were worth that much or even more to my client."
"And where are they now?" Barnes gasped.
"I do not know," Mr. Bentham answered. "If you can find them, I think itvery likely that my client might make you a similar offer."
It was the first ray of hope. Barnes moistened his dry lips with histongue, and drew a long breath.
"Securities!" he muttered. "What sort of securities?"
"There, unfortunately," Mr. Bentham said, "I am unable to help you. I aman agent only in the matter. They were securities which my client wasanxious to buy, and your brother was not unwilling to sell for cash,notwithstanding the income which they were bringing him in."
"But how can I look for them, if I don't know what they are?" Barnesprotested.
"There are difficulties, certainly," the lawyer admitted, carefullypolishing his spectacles with the corner of a silk handkerchief; "but,then, as you have doubtless surmised, the whole situation is adifficult one."
"You can get to know," Barnes exclaimed. "Your client would tell you."
Mr. Bentham sighed gently.
"Of course," he said, "I am only quoting my own opinion, but I do notthink that my client would do anything of the sort. These securitieshappen to be of a somewhat secret nature. Your brother was in a positionto make an exceedingly clever use of them. It appears incidentally tohave cost him his life, but there are risks, of course, in everyprofession."
Barnes stared at him with wide-open eyes. He seemed, for the moment,struck dumb. Wrayson, who had been silent during the greater part of theconversation, turned towards the lawyer.
"You believe, then," he asked, "that Morris Barnes was murdered for thesake of these securities?"
"I believe--nothing," the lawyer answered. "It is not my business tobelieve. Mr. Morris Barnes was in the receipt of an income of twothousand a year, which we might call dividend upon these securities. Myclient, through me, made Mr. Barnes a cash offer to buy them outright,and although I must admit that Mr. Barnes had not closed with us, yet Ibelieve that he was on the point of doing so. He had doubtless had itbrought home to him that there was a certain amount of danger associatedwith his position generally. The night on which my client arrived inEngland was the night upon which Mr. Morris Barnes was murdered. Theinference to be drawn from this circumstance I can leave, I am sure, tothe common sense of you two gentlemen."
"First, then," Wrayson said, "it would appear that he was murdered by thepeople who were paying him two thousand a year, and who were acting inopposition to your client!"
Mr. Bentham shrugged his shoulder gently.
"It does not sound unreasonable," he admitted.
"And secondly," Wrayson continued, "if that was so, he was probablyrobbed of
these securities at the same time."
"Now that, also," Mr. Bentham said smoothly, "sounds reasonable. But, asa matter of fact," he continued, looking down upon the table, "there arecertain indications which go to disprove it. My personal opinion is thatthe assassin--granted that there was an assassin, and granted that he wasacting on behalf of the parties we have referred to--met with adisappointment."
"In plain words," Wrayson interrupted, "you mean that the other side havenot possessed themselves of the securities?"
"They certainly have not," Mr. Bentham declared. "They still remain--theproperty by inheritance of this young gentleman here--Mr. Sydney Barnes,I believe."
His tone was so even, so expressionless, that its slightest changes werenoticeable. It seemed to Wrayson that a faint note of sarcasm had creptinto these last few words. Mr. Barnes himself, however, was quiteoblivious of it. His yellow-stained fingers were spread out upon thetable. He leaned over towards the lawyer. His under lip protruded, hisdeep-set eyes seemed closer than ever together. He was grimly, tragicallyin earnest.
"Look here," he said. "What can I do to get hold of 'em? I don't carewhat it is. I'm game! I'll deal with your man--the cash client. I'll giveyou a commission, see! Five per cent on all I get. How's that? I'll playfair. Now chuck away all this mystery. What were these securities? Whereshall I start looking for them?"
Mr. Bentham regarded him with stony face. "There are certain points," hesaid, "upon which I cannot enlighten you. My duty to my client forbidsit. I cannot describe to you the nature of those securities. I cannotsuggest where you should look for them. All that I can say is that theyare still to be found, and that my client is still a buyer."
The young man turned to Wrayson. His face was twitching with someemotion, probably anger.
"Did you ever hear such bally rot!" he exclaimed. "He knows allabout these securities all right. They belong to me. He ought to bemade to tell."
Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.
"It does seem rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it?" he remarked. "Can'tyou tell him a little more, Mr. Bentham?"
Mr. Bentham sighed, as though his impotence were a matter of sincereregret to him.
"The only advice I can offer Mr. Barnes," he said, "is that he induce youto aid him in his search. Between you, I should never be surprised tohear of your success."
"And why," Wrayson asked, "should you consider me such a useful ally?"
Mr. Bentham looked at him steadily for a moment.
"You appear to me," he said, "to be a young man of intelligence--and youknow how to keep your own counsel. I should consider Mr. Barnes veryfortunate if you could make up your mind to aid him in his search."
"It is not my affair," Wrayson answered stiffly. "I could not possiblypledge myself to enter upon such a wild-goose chase."
Mr. Bentham turned over some papers which lay upon the table before him.He had apparently had enough of the conversation.
"You must not call it exactly that, Mr. Wrayson," he said. "Mr. Barnes'success in his quest would probably result in an act of justice tosociety. To you personally, I should imagine it would be expresslyinteresting."
"What do you mean?" Wrayson asked, quickly.
The lawyer looked at him calmly.
"It should solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder!" he answered.
Wrayson touched his companion on the shoulder.
"I think that we might as well go," he said. "Mr. Bentham does not meanto tell us anything more."
Barnes moved slowly towards the door, but with reluctance manifested inhis sullen face and manner.
"I don't know how I'm going to set about this job," he said, turning oncemore towards the lawyer. "I shall do what I can, but you haven't seen thelast of me, yet, Mr. Bentham. If I fail, I shall come back to you."
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. He was already absorbed in other work.