CHAPTER XXXVI
THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS
Both men had been totally unprepared for the girl's timid avowal. ToWrayson, however, after the first mild shock of surprise, it was of nospecial import. To Sydney Barnes, although he made a speedy effort tograpple with the situation, it came very much as a thunderclap.
"You have your certificate?" he asked sharply. "You were married properlyin a church?"
She nodded. "We were married at Dulwich Parish Church," she answered. "Itwas nearly a year ago."
"Very well," Sydney Barnes said. "It is lucky that I am here to lookafter your interests. We divide everything, you know."
She seemed about to cry.
"I want Augustus," she murmured. "He was very good to me."
"Look here," he said, "Augustus always seemed to have plenty of oof,didn't he?"
She nodded.
"He was very generous with it, too," she declared. "He gave me lots andlots of beautiful things."
His eyes travelled over her hands and neck, destitute of ornaments.
"Where are they?" he asked sharply.
"I've had to sell them," she answered, "to get along at all, I hated to,but I couldn't starve."
The young man's face darkened.
"Come," he said. "We'd better have no secrets from one another. You knowhow to get at his money, I suppose?"
She shook her head.
"Indeed I don't know anything about it," she declared.
"You must know where it came from," he persisted.
"I don't," she repeated. "Indeed I don't. He never told me and I neverasked him. I understood that he had made it in South Africa."
Sydney Barnes wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
"Look here," he said in a voice which, notwithstanding his efforts tocontrol it, trembled a little, "this is a very serious matter for us. Youdon't want to go back to the refreshment bar again, do you?"
"I don't care what I do," she answered dully. "I hated that, but I shallhate everything now that he is gone."
"It's only for a day or two you'll feel like that," he declared. "We'vegot a right, you and I, to whatever Morry left behind, and whateverhappens I mean to have my share. Look around you!"
It was not an inspiring spectacle. The room was dirty, and almost devoidof furniture.
"All that I've had out of it so far," he declared, "is free quartershere. The rent's paid up to the end of the year. I've had to sell thefurniture bit by bit to keep alive. It was a cheap lot, cheap and showy,and it fetched jolly little. Morry always did like to have things thatlooked worth more than he gave for them. Even his jewellery wassham--every bally bit of it. There wasn't a real pearl or a real diamondamongst the lot. But there's no doubt about the money. I've had thebank-book. He was worth a cool two thousand a year was Morry--that'sfive hundred each quarter day, you understand, and somewhere or otherthere must be the bonds or securities from which this money came. Henever kept them here. I'll swear to that. Therefore they must besomewhere that you ought to know about."
She nodded wearily.
"Very likely," she said. "I have a parcel he gave me to take care of."
The effect of her simple words on Barnes was almost magical. The dullcolour streamed into his sallow cheeks, he shook all over withexcitement. His voice, when he spoke, was almost hysterical. He had beenso near to despair. This indeed had been almost his last hope.
"A parcel!" he gasped. "A parcel! What sort of a parcel? Did he say thatit was important?"
"It's just a long envelope tied up with red tape and sealed," sheanswered. "Yes! he made a great fuss about leaving it with me."
"Tell us all about it," he demanded greedily. "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!Be quick!"
"It must have been almost the very day it happened," she said, with alittle shudder. "He came down in the afternoon and he seemed a bit queer,as though he had something on his mind. He took out the envelope once ortwice and looked at it. Once he said to me, 'Agnes,' he said, 'there aremen in London who, if they knew that I carried this with me, would killme for it. I was frightened, and I begged him to leave it somewhere. Ithink he said that he had to have it always with him, because he couldn'tthink of a safe hiding-place for it. Just as he was going, though, hecame back and took it out of his pocket once more."
"He left it with you?" Barnes exclaimed. "You have it safe?"
She nodded.
"I was going to tell you. 'Look here, Agnes,' he said, 'I'm nervousto-night. I don't want to carry this about with me. I shall want itto-morrow and I'll come down for it. To-night's a dangerous night forme to be carrying it about.' Those were just about his last words. Hegave me the packet and I begged him to be careful. Then he kissed meand off he went, smoking a cigar, and as cheerful as though he weregoing to a wedding."
She began to cry again, but Barnes broke in upon her grief.
"Didn't he tell you anything more about it?" he demanded.
"He told me--if anything happened to him," she sobbed, "to open it."
"We must do so," he declared. "We must do so at once. There must be aquarter's dividends overdue. We can get the money to-morrow, andthen--oh! my God!" he exclaimed, as though the very anticipation made himfaint. "Where is the packet?"
"At the bottom of my tin trunk in my rooms," she answered. "I had toleave the house. I couldn't pay the rent any longer."
"Where are the rooms?" he demanded. "We'll go there now."
"In Labrador Street," she answered. "It's a poor part, but I've only afew shillings in the world."
"We'll have a cab," he declared, rising. "Mr. Wrayson will lend us themoney, perhaps?"
"I will come with you," Wrayson said quietly.
"We needn't bother you to do that," Sydney Barnes declared, with asuspicious glance.
The young woman looked towards him appealingly. He nodded reassuringly.
"I think," he said, "that it will be better for me to come. I amconcerned in this business after all, you know."
"I don't see how," Barnes declared sullenly. "_If_ this young lady is mysister-in-law, surely she and I can settle up our own affairs."
Wrayson stood with his back to the door, facing them.
"I hope," he said, "that you will not, either of you, be disappointed inwhat you find in that packet. But I think it is only right to warn you. Ihave reason to believe that you will not find any securities or bondsthere at all! I believe that you will find that packet to consist ofmerely a bundle of old letters and a photograph!"
Barnes spat upon the floor. He was shaking with fright and anger.
"I don't believe it," he declared. "What can you know about it?"
Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.
"Look here," he said, "the matter is easily settled. We will put thisyoung lady in a cab and she shall bring the packet to my flat below. Youand she shall open it, and if you find securities there I have no more tosay, except to wish you both luck. If, on the other hand, you find theletters, it will be a different matter."
The girl had risen to her feet.
"I would rather go alone," she said. "If you will pay my cab, I willbring the packet straight back."
Wrayson and Barnes waited in the former's flat. Barnes drank two brandyand sodas, and walked restlessly up and down the room. Wrayson was busyat the telephone, and carried on a conversation for some moments inFrench. Directly he had finished, Barnes turned upon him.
"Whom were you talking to?" he demanded.
"A friend of yours," he answered. "I have asked her to come round for afew minutes."
"A friend of mine?"
"The Baroness!"
The colour burned once more in his cheeks. He looked down at his attirewith dissatisfaction.
"I didn't want to see her again just yet," he muttered. Wrayson smiled.
"She won't look at your clothes," he remarked, "and I rather wanther here."
Barnes was suddenly suspicious.
"What for?" he demanded. "What has she got to do with the affair? I won'tha
ve strangers present."
"My young friend," Wrayson said, "I may just as well warn you that Ithink you are going to be disappointed. I am almost certain that I knowthe contents of that packet. You will find that it consists, as I toldyou before, not of securities at all, but simply a few old letters."
Barnes' eyes narrowed.
"Whatever they are," he said, "they meant a couple of thousand a year toMorry, and they were worth his life to somebody! How do you account forthat, eh?"
"You want the truth?" Wrayson asked.
"Yes!"
"Your brother was a blackmailer!"
The breath came through Barnes' teeth with a little hiss. He realizedhis position almost at once. He was trapped.
He walked up to Wrayson's side. His voice shook, but he was indeadly earnest.
"Look here," he said, "the contents of that packet, whatever they may be,are mine--mine and hers! You have nothing to do with the matter at all. Iwill not have you in the room when they are opened."
Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.
"The packet will be opened here," he said, "and I shall certainlybe present."
Barnes ground his teeth.
"If you touch one of those papers or letters or whatever they may be, youshall be prosecuted for theft," he declared. "I swear it!"
Wrayson smiled.
"I will run the risk," he declared. "Ah! Baroness, this is kind of you,"he added, throwing open the door and ushering her in. "There is a youngfriend of yours here who is dying to renew his acquaintance with you."
She smiled delightfully at Sydney Barnes, and threw back her cloak.She had just come in from the opera, and diamonds were flashingfrom her neck and bosom. Her gown was exquisite, the touch of herfingers an enchantment. It was impossible for him to resist thespell of her presence.
"You have been very unkind," she declared. "You have not been to see mefor a very long time. I do not think that I shall forgive you. What doyou say, Mr. Wrayson? Do you think that he deserves it?"
Wrayson smiled as he threw open the door once more. He felt that the nextfew minutes might prove interesting.