night, seemed to suggest something to him. He warned me that he had made up his mind to solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder; he advised me, in fact, to clear out. And now, since then———"
The waiter brought the soup. Wrayson broke off and talked for a moment or two to the maître d'hôtel, who had paused at their table. Presently, when they were alone, he went on.
"Since then, a young brother of Barnes has turned up from South Africa. There was some mystery about Morris Barnes and the source of his income. The brother is just as determined to solve this as Heneage seems to be to discover the—the murderer! They will work together, and I am afraid! Not for myself! You know for whom."
The Colonel was very grave. He ate slowly, and he seemed to be thinking.
"There is one man, a solicitor named Bentham," Wrayson continued, "who I believe knows everything. But I do not think that even Heneage will be able to make him speak. His connection with the affair is on behalf of a mysterious client. Young Barnes and I went to see him this afternoon, but beyond encouraging the boy to search for the source of his brother's income, he wouldn't open his mouth."
"A solicitor named Bentham," the Colonel repeated mechanically. "Ah!"
"Do you know him?" Wrayson asked.
"I have heard of him," the Colonel answered. "A most disreputable person, I believe. He has offices in the Adelphi."
Wrayson nodded.
"And whatever his business is," he continued, "it
