The Avenger

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER

  At the sight of the two men who awaited her entrance, the Baronessstopped short. Whatever alarm or surprise she may have felt at theirpresence was effectually concealed from them by the thick veil which shewore, through which her features were undistinguishable. As thoughpurposely, she left to them the onus of speech.

  Wrayson took a quick step towards her.

  "Baroness!" he exclaimed. "What are you--I beg your pardon, but what areyou doing here?"

  She raised her veil and looked at them both attentively. In her hand shestill held the latch-key by means of which she entered.

  "Do you know," she answered quietly, "I was just going to ask you thesame thing."

  "Our presence is easily explained," Wrayson answered. "This is Mr. SydneyBarnes, the brother of the Mr. Barnes who used to live here. He iskeeping the flat on for a short time."

  The Baroness was surprised, and showed it. Without a moment's hesitation,however, she accepted Wrayson's words as an introduction to the youngman, and held out her hand to him with a brilliant smile.

  "I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes," she said, "even under suchpainful circumstances. I knew your brother very well, and I have heardhim speak of you."

  "AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"]

  Mr. Sydney Barnes did not attempt to conceal his surprise. He shookhands with the Baroness, however, and regarded her with undisguisedadmiration.

  "Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed frankly. "Do you mean to say that youwere a friend of Morris's?"

  "Certainly," the Baroness answered. "Why not?"

  "Oh! I don't know," the young man declared. "I'm getting past beingsurprised at anything. I suppose it's the oof that makes the difference.A friend of Morris's, you said. Why, perhaps--" He hesitated, and glancedtowards Wrayson.

  "There is no harm in asking the Baroness, at any rate," Wrayson said."The fact of the matter is," he continued, turning towards her, "that Mr.Sydney Barnes here finds himself in a somewhat extraordinary position. Heis the sole relative and heir of his brother, and he has come over herefrom South Africa, naturally enough, to take possession of his effects.Now there is no doubt, from his bank-book, and his manner of life, thatMorris Barnes was possessed of a considerable income. According to hisbank-book it was L2,000 a year."

  The Baroness nodded thoughtfully.

  "He told me once that he was worth as much as that," she remarked,

  "Exactly, but the curious part of the affair is that, up to the present,Mr. Sydney Barnes has been unable to discover the slightest trace of anyinvestments or any sum of money whatever. Now can you help us? DidMorris Barnes ever happen to mention to you in what direction hiscapital was invested? Did he ever give you any idea at all as to thesource of his income?"

  The Baroness stood quite still, as though lost in thought. Wraysonwatched her with a curious sense of fascination. He knew very well thatthe subtle brain of the woman was occupied in no fruitless attempt atreminiscence; he was convinced that the Baroness had never exchanged asingle word with Morris Barnes in her life. She was thinking her waythrough this problem--how best to make use of this unexpected tool. Theireyes met and she smiled faintly. She judged rightly that Wrayson, at anyrate, was not deceived.

  "I cannot give you any definite information," she said at last, "but--"

  She hesitated, and the young man's eagerness escaped all bounds.

  "But what?" he cried, leaning breathlessly towards her. "You knowsomething! What is it? Go on! Go on!"

  "I think that if I can remember it," she continued, "I can tell you thename of the solicitor whom he employed."

  The young man dashed his fist upon the table. He was pale almostto the lips.

  "By God! you must remember it," he cried. "Don't say you've forgotten.It's most important. Two thousand a year!--pounds! Think!"

  She turned towards Wrayson. She wished to conciliate him, but the youngman was not a pleasant sight.

  "It was something like Benton," she suggested.

  Wrayson glanced downward at one of the three documents which he hadpreserved.

  "Bentham!" he exclaimed. "Was that it?"

  The face of the Baroness cleared at once.

  "Of course it was! How stupid of me to have forgotten. His offices aresomewhere in the Adelphi."

  Barnes caught up his hat.

  "Where is that?" he exclaimed. "I'm off."

  Wrayson held out his hand.

  "Wait a moment," he said. "There is no hurry for an hour or so. Thisaffair may not be quite so simple, after all."

  "Why not?" the young man demanded fiercely. "It's my money, isn't it? Ican take out letters of administration. It belongs to me. He'll have togive it up."

  "In the long run I should say that he will--if he has it," Wraysonanswered. "But before you go to him, remember this. He has seen theaccount of your brother's death. He did not appear at the inquest. He hastaken no steps to discover his next of kin. Both of these proceedingswere part of his natural duty."

  "Mr. Wrayson is quite right," the Baroness remarked. "Mr. Bentham has notbehaved as an honest man. He will have to be treated firmly butcarefully. You are a little excited just now. Wait for an hour or so, andperhaps Mr. Wrayson will go with you."

  Barnes turned towards him eagerly, and Wrayson nodded.

  "Yes! I'll go," he said. "I know Mr. Bentham slightly. He once paid merather a curious visit. But never mind that now."

  "Was it in connection with this affair?" the Baroness asked him quietly.

  Wrayson affected not to hear. He passed his cigarette case to Barnes, whowas stamping up and down the room, muttering to himself.

  "Look here, you'd better have a smoke and calm down, young man," hesaid. "It's no use going to see Bentham in a state like this."

  The young man threw himself into a chair. Suddenly he sat up again, andaddressed the Baroness.

  "I say," he exclaimed, "how is it that you have a key to this flat? Whatdid you come here for this afternoon?"

  The Baroness laughed softly.

  "Well, I got the key from the landlord a few days ago. I told him that Imight take the flat, and he told me to come in and look at it and returnthe key--which you see I haven't done. To be quite honest with you,though, I had another reason for coming here."

  The young man looked at her with mingled suspicion and admiration. Shehad raised her veil now, and even Wrayson was aware that he had scarcelyrealized how beautiful a woman she was. Her tailor-made gown of darkgreen cloth fitted her to perfection; she was turned out with all thatdelightful perfection of detail which seems to be the Frenchwoman'sheritage. Her smile, half pathetic, half appealing, was certainlysufficient to turn the head of a dozen young men such as Sydney Barnes.

  "I have told you," she continued, "that your brother and I used to bevery good friends. I wrote him now and then some rather foolish letters.He promised to destroy them, but--men are so foolish, you know,sometimes--I was never quite sure that he had kept his word, and I meantto take this opportunity of looking for myself that he had not left themabout. You do not blame me, Mr. Sydney? You are not cross?"

  He kept his eyes upon her as though fascinated.

  "No!" he said. "No! I mean of course not."

  "These letters," she continued, "you have not seen them, Mr. Sydney? No?Or you, Mr. Wrayson?"

  "We have not come across any letters at all answering to thatdescription," Wrayson assured her.

  The Baroness glanced across at Barnes, who was certainly regarding her insomewhat peculiar fashion.

  "Why does Mr. Sydney look at me like that?" she asked, with a littleshrug of the shoulders. "He does not think that I came here to steal?Why, Mr. Sydney," she added, "I am very, very much richer than ever yourbrother was."

  "Richer--than he was! Richer than two thousand a year!" he gasped.

  The Baroness laughed softly but heartily. She stole a sidelong glanceat Wrayson.

  "Why, my dear young man," sh
e said, "it costs me--oh! quite as much asthat each year to dress."

  Barnes looked at her as though she were something holy. When he spoke,there was awe in his tone. The problem which had formed itself in histhoughts demanded expression.

  "And you say that you were a pal--I mean a friend of Morris's? You wrotehim letters?"

  The Baroness smiled.

  "Why not?" she exclaimed. "Women have queer tastes, you know. We like allsorts of men. I think I must ask Mr. Wrayson to bring you in to tea oneafternoon. Would you like to come?"

  "Yes!" he answered.

  She nodded a farewell and turned to Wrayson.

  "As for you," she said under her breath, "you had better come soon ifyou want to make your peace with Louise."

  "May I come this afternoon?" he asked.

  She nodded, and held out her exquisitely gloved hand.

  "I knew you were going to be an ally," she murmured under her breath."Don't let the others get hold of him."

  She was gone before Wrayson could ask for an explanation. The others! Ifonly he could discover who they were.

  He turned back into the room.

  "Do you mind coming down into my flat for a moment, Barnes?" he asked. "Iwant to telephone to the office before I go out with you again."

  The young man followed him heavily. He seemed a little dazed. InWrayson's sitting-room, he stood looking about him as though appraisingthe value of the curios, pictures, and engravings with which theapartment was crowded. Wrayson, while waiting for his call, watched himcuriously. In his present state his vulgarity was perhaps less glaringlyapparent, but his lack of attractiveness was accentuated. His ears seemedto have grown larger, his pinched, Semitic features more repulsive, andhis complexion sallower. He was pitchforked into a world of which he knewnothing, and he seemed stunned by his first contact with it. Only onething remained--the greed in his eyes. They seemed to have grown narrowerand brighter with desire.

  He did not speak until they were in the cab. Then he turned to Wrayson.

  "I say," he exclaimed, "what was her name?"

  Wrayson smiled.

  "The Baroness de Sturm," he answered.

  "Baroness! Real Baroness! All O.K., I suppose?"

  "Without a doubt," Wrayson answered.

  "And Morris knew her--she wrote letters to him," he continued, "awoman--like that."

  He was silent for several moments. It was obvious that his opinion of hisbrother was rising rapidly. His tone had become almost reverential.

  "I've got to find where that money is," he said abruptly. "If I gothrough fire and water to get it, I'll have it! I'll keep on Morris'sflat. I'll go to his tailor! I'll--you're laughing at me. But I mean it!I've had enough of grubbing along on nothing a week, and living in thegutters. I want a bit of Morris's luck."

  Wrayson put his head out of the cab. The young man's face was notpleasant to look at.

  "We are there," he said. "Come along."