CHAPTER VI
ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD
But when the morrow came, and his visitor was shown into Wrayson'sprivate office, he was not quite so sure about it. Mr. Bentham had not inthe least the appearance of a murderer. Clean-shaven, a little slow inspeech, quietly dressed, he resembled more than anything a countrysolicitor in moderate practice.
He bowed in correct professional manner, and laid a brown paper parcelupon the table.
"I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Wrayson?"
Wrayson nodded a little curtly.
"And you, I suppose," he remarked, "are the owner of the mysteriousvoice which summoned Morris Barnes to the Francis Hotel on the night ofhis murder?"
"It was I who spoke to you," Mr. Bentham admitted.
"Very well," Wrayson said, "I am glad to see you. It was obvious, fromyour message, that you knew of some danger which was threatening MorrisBarnes that night. It is therefore only fair to presume that you are alsoaware of its source."
"You go a little fast, sir," Mr. Bentham objected.
"My presumption is a fair one," Wrayson declared. "You are perhaps awareof my unfortunate connection with this affair. If so, you will understandthat I am particularly anxious to have it cleared up."
"It is not at all certain that I can help you," his visitor saidprecisely. "It depends entirely upon yourself. Will you permit me to putmy case before you?"
"By all means," Wrayson answered. "Go ahead."
Mr. Bentham took the chair towards which Wrayson had somewhat impatientlypointed, and unbuttoned his coat. It was obvious that he was not a personto be hurried.
"In the first place, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I must ask you distinctly tounderstand that I am not addressing you on my own account. I am a lawyer,and I am acting on behalf of a client."
"Who is he?" Wrayson asked. "What is his name?"
The ghost of a smile flickered across the lawyer's thin lips.
"I am not at liberty to divulge his identity," he answered. "I am,however, fully empowered to act for him."
Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.
"He may find it necessary to disclose it, and before very long," heremarked. "Well, go on."
Mr. Bentham discreetly ignored the covert threat in Wrayson's words.
"My mission to you, Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "is a somewhat delicateone. It is not, in fact, connected with the actual--tragedy to which youhave alluded. My commission is to regain possession of a paper which wasstolen either from the person of Morris Barnes or from amongst hiseffects, on that night."
Wrayson looked up eagerly.
"The motive at last!" he exclaimed. "What was the nature of thispaper, sir?"
Mr. Bentham's eyebrows were slowly raised.
"That," he said, "we need not enter into for the moment. The matter ofbusiness between you and myself, or rather my client, is this. I amauthorized to offer a thousand pounds reward for its recovery."
Wrayson was impressed, although the other's manner left him alittle puzzled.
"Why not offer the reward for the discovery of the murderer?" he asked."It would come, I presume, to the same thing."
"By no means," the lawyer answered dryly. "I am afraid that I have notexpressed myself well. My client cares nothing for Morris Barnes, dead oralive. His interest begins and ends with the recovery of that paper."
"But isn't it almost certain," Wrayson persisted, "that the thief and themurderer are the same person? Your client ought to have come forward atthe inquest. The thing which has chiefly troubled the police in dealingwith this matter is the apparent lack of motive."
"My client is not actuated in any way by philanthropic motives," Mr.Bentham said coldly. "To tell you the truth, he does not care whether themurderer of Morris Barnes is brought to justice or not. He is onlyanxious to recover possession of the document of which I have spoken."
"If he has a legal claim to it," Wrayson said, "he had better offer hisreward openly. He would probably help himself then, and also those whoare anxious to have this mystery solved."
"Are you amongst those, Mr. Wrayson?" his visitor asked quietly.
Wrayson started slightly, but he retained his self-composure.
"I am very much amongst them," he answered. "My connection with theaffair was an extremely unpleasant one, and it will remain so until themurderer of Morris Barnes is brought to book."
"Or murderess," Mr. Bentham murmured softly.
Wrayson reeled in his chair as though he had been struck a violentand unexpected blow. He understood now the guarded menace of hisvisitor's manner. He felt the man's eyes taking merciless note of hiswhitening cheeks.
"My client," the lawyer continued, "desires to ask no questions. All thathe wants is the document to which he is entitled, and which was stolen onthe night when Mr. Morris Barnes met with his unfortunate accident."
Wrayson had pulled himself together with an effort.
"I presume," he said, "from your frequent reiteration, that I may takethis as being to some extent a personal offer. If so, let me assure you,sir, that so far as I am concerned I know nothing whatever of any papersor other belongings which were in the possession of my late neighbour. Ihave never seen or heard of any. I do not even know why you should havecome to me at all."
"I came to you," Mr. Bentham said, "because I was very well aware that,for some reason or other, your evidence at the inquest was not quite ascomprehensive as it might have been."
"Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me all that you know!" Wrayson exclaimed."Take my word for it, I know nothing of this document or paper. I haveneither seen it nor heard of it. I know nothing whatever of the man orhis affairs. I can't help you. I would if I could. On the other hand, youcan throw some light upon the motive for the crime. Who is your client?Let me go and see him for myself."
Mr. Bentham rose to his feet, and began slowly to draw on his gloves.
"Mr. Wrayson," he said quietly, "I am disappointed with the result of myvisit to you. I admit it frankly. You are either an extremely ingenuousperson, or a good deal too clever for me. In either case, if you will nottreat with me, I need not waste your time."
Wrayson moved to the door and stood with his back to it.
"I am not at all sure," he said, "that I am justified in letting you golike this. You are in possession of information which would be invaluableto the police in their search for the murderer of Morris Barnes."
Mr. Bentham smiled coldly.
"And are not you," he remarked, "in the same fortunate position--with theunfortunate exception, perhaps, of having already given your testimony?Of the two, if disclosures had to be made, I think that I should prefermy own position."
Wrayson remained where he was.
"I am inclined," he said, "to risk it. At least you would be compelled todisclose your client's name."
Mr. Bentham visibly flinched. He recovered himself almost immediately,but the shadow of fear had rested for a moment, at any rate, upon hisimpassive features.
"I am entirely at your service," he said coldly. "My client has at leastnot broken the laws of his country."
Wrayson stood away from the door.
"You can go," he said shortly, "if you will leave me your address."
Mr. Bentham bowed.
"I regret that I have no card with me," he said, "but I have an office,a single room only, in number 8, Paper Buildings, Adelphi. If you shouldhappen to come across--that document--"
Wrayson held open the door.
"If I should come to see you," he said, "it will be on other business."
* * * * *
Wrayson lunched at the club that morning, and received a warm greetingfrom his friends. The subject of the murder was, as though by commonconsent, avoided. Towards the end of the meal the Colonel received atelegram, which he read and laid down upon the table in front of him.
"By Jove!" he said softly, "I'd forgotten all about it. Boys, you've gotto help me out."
r /> "We're on," Mason declared. "What is it? a fight?"
"It's a garden party my girls are giving to-morrow afternoon," theColonel answered. "I promised to take some of you down. Come, who's goingto help me out? Wrayson? Good! Heneage? Excellent! Mason? Good fellows,all of you! Two-twenty from Waterloo, flannels and straw hats."
The little group broke up, and the Colonel was hurried off into theCommittee Room. Wrayson and Heneage exchanged dubious glances.
"A garden party in May!" the latter remarked.
"Taking time by the forelock a little, isn't it?"
Wrayson sighed resignedly.
"It's the Colonel!" he declared. "We should have to go if it wereDecember!"