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 just got back. Not but that I'd been here long ago," the young man added, with a note of exasperation in his tone, "if I'd had any idea of the luck he was in. Why, I lent him a bit to come back with, though I was only earning 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 all considerate. Your brother had the command of considerable sums of money. In fact, Mr. Barnes, I may tell you, without any breach of confidence, I think that if he had kept his appointment with me on the night when he was murdered, I was prepared, on behalf of my client, to hand him a cheque 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 securities which 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 it very likely that my client might make you a similar offer."
It was the first ray of hope. Barnes moistened his dry lips with his tongue, and drew a long breath.
"Securities!" he muttered. "What sort of securities?"
"There, unfortunately," Mr. Bentham said, "I am unable to help you. I am an agent only in the matter.
