The Avenger

  CHAPTER XII

  TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE

  Wrayson paused for a moment in his work to answer the telephone whichstood upon his table.

  "What is it?" he asked sharply.

  His manager spoke to him from the offices below.

  "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a young man here who won't goaway without seeing you. His name is Barnes, and he says that he has justarrived from South Africa."

  It was a busy morning with Wrayson, for in an hour or so the paper wentto press, but he did not hesitate for a moment.

  "I will see him," he declared. "Bring him up yourself."

  Wrayson laid down the telephone. Morris Barnes had come from SouthAfrica. It was a common name enough, and yet, from the first, he was surethat this was some relative. What was the object of his visit? The ideaschased one another through his brain. Was he, too, an avenger?

  There was a knock at the door, and the clerk from downstairs ushered inhis visitor. Wrayson could scarcely repress a start. It was a youngeredition of Morris Barnes who stood there, with an ingratiating smile uponhis pale face, a trifle more Semitic in appearance, perhaps, but in otherrespects the likeness was almost startling. It extended even to theclothes, for Wrayson recognized with a start a purple and white tie ofparticularly loud pattern. The cut of his coat, the glossiness of his hatand boots, too, were all strikingly reminiscent of the dead man.

  His visitor was becoming nervous under Wrayson's close scrutiny. Hismanner betrayed a curious mixture of diffidence and assurance. He seemedoveranxious to create a favourable impression.

  "I took the liberty of coming to see you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, twistinghis hat round in his hand. "My name is Barnes, Sydney Barnes. MorrisBarnes was my brother."

  Wrayson pointed to a chair, into which his visitor subsided withexaggerated expressions of gratitude. He had very small black eyes, setvery close together, and he blinked continually. The more Wrayson studiedhim, the less prepossessing he found him.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?" he asked quietly.

  "I have just come from Cape Town," the young man said. "Such a shock itwas to me--about my poor brother! Oh! such a shock!"

  "How did you hear about it?" Wrayson asked.

  "Just a newspaper--I read an account of it all. It did give me a turn andno mistake. Directly I'd finished, I went and booked my passage on the_Dunottar Castle._ I had a very fair berth over there--two quid a week,but I felt I must come home at once. Fact is," he continued, looking downat his trousers, "I had no time to get my own togs together. I was soanxious, you see. That's why I'm wearing some of poor Morris's."

  "Are you the only relative?" Wrayson asked.

  "'Pon my sam, I am," the other answered with emphasis. "We hadn't arelation in the world. Father and mother died ten years ago, and Morrisand I were the only two. Anything that poor Morris possessed belongs tome, sure! There's no one else to claim a farthing's worth. You must knowthat yourself, Mr. Wrayson, eh?"

  "If, as you say, you are the only relative, your brother's effects, ofcourse, belong to you," Wrayson answered.

  "It's a sure thing," the young man declared. "I've been to the landlordof the flat, and he gave me up the keys at once. There's only onequarter's rent owing. Pretty stiff though--isn't it? Fifty pounds!"

  "Your brother's was a furnished flat, I believe," Wrayson answered. "Thatmakes a difference, of course."

  The young man's face fell.

  "Then the furniture wasn't his?" he remarked.

  Wrayson shook his head.

  "No! the furniture belongs to the landlord. There will be an inventory,of course, and you will be able to find out if anything was yourbrother's."

  It was obvious that Mr. Sydney Barnes had not as yet entered upon thepurpose of his visit. He fidgeted for a moment or two with his hat, andlooked up at Wrayson, only to look nervously away again. To set him moreat his ease, Wrayson lit a cigarette and passed the box over.

  "Thank you, Mr. Wrayson! Thank you, sir!" his visitor exclaimed. "Yousee I'm a smoker," he added, holding up his yellow-stained forefinger."That is, I smoke when I can afford to. Things have been pretty dickyout in South Africa lately, you know. Terrible hard it has been to makea living."

  "Your brother was supposed to have done pretty well out there," Wraysonremarked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation alive thananything. The effect of his words, however, was electrical. Mr. SydneyBarnes leaned over from his chair, and his little black eyes twinkledlike polished beads.

  "Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "a week before he sailed for England, Morriswas on his uppers! He was caught in Johannesburg when the war broke out,and he had to stay there. When he turned up in Cape Town again, his ownmother wouldn't have known him. He was in rags--he'd come down on afreight--he hadn't a scrap of luggage, or a copper to his name. That wasMorris when he came to me in Cape Town!"

  Wrayson was listening attentively; he almost feared to let his visitorsee how interested he was.

  "He was fair done in!" the young man continued. "He never had the pluckof a chicken, and the night he found me in Cape Town he cried like ababy. He had lost everything, he said. It was no use staying in thecountry any longer. He was wild to get back to England. And yet, do youknow, sir, all the time I had the idea that he was keeping something backfrom me. And he was! He was, too! The--!"

  He stopped short. The vindictiveness of his countenance suppliedthe epithet.

  "You'll excuse me if I'm a bit excited, Mr. Wrayson," he continued. "I'llleave you to judge how I've been served when you hear all. He got overme, and I lent him nearly half of my savings, and he started back toEngland. He took this flat at two hundred pounds a year the very week hegot back, and he's lived, from what I can hear, like a lord ever since.Will you believe this, sir! He sent back the money he borrowed from me aquid at a time, and wrote me to say he was saving it with greatdifficulty--out of his salary of three pounds a week. When he'd paid backthe lot, I never heard another line from him. I was doing rotten myself,and he knew well enough that I should have been over first steamer if I'dknown about his two hundred a year flat, and all the rest of it. What doyou think of my brother, sir, eh? What do you think of him? Treated menicely, didn't he? Nine pounds ten it was I lent him, and nine pounds tenwas all I had back, and here he was living like a duke, and lying to meabout his three pounds a week; and there was I hawkering groceries on abarrow, selling sham diamonds, any blooming thing to get a mouthful toeat. Nice sort of brother that, eh? What?"

  Wrayson repressed an inclination to smile. There was something grimlyhumourous about his visitor's indignation.

  "You must remember," he said, "that your brother is dead, and that hisdeath itself was a terrible one. Besides, even if you have had to waitfor a little time, you are his heir now."

  The young man was breathing hard. The perspiration stood out in littlebeads upon his forehead. He showed his teeth a little. He was becomingmore and more unpleasant to look upon as his excitement increased.

  "Look here, Mr. Wrayson!" he exclaimed. "I'm coming to that. I've beenthrough his things. Clothes! I never saw such a collection. All from aWest End tailor, too! And boots! Patent, with white tops; pumps,everything slap up! Heaven knows what he must have spent upon hisclothes. Bills from restaurants, too; why, he seems to have thoughtnothing of spending a quid or two on a dinner or a supper. Photographsof ladies, little notes asking him to tea; why, between you and me, Mr.Wrayson, sir, he was living like a prince! And look here!"

  He rose to his feet and planked down a bank-book on the desk in frontof Wrayson.

  "Look here, sir," he declared. "Every three months, within a day or two,cash--five hundred pounds. Here you are. Here's the last: March27--cash, L500! Look back! January 1--By cash L500! October 2--cash,L500! There you are, right back to the very day he arrived in England.And he left South Africa with ten bob of mine in his pocket, after he'dpaid his passage! and from what I can hear, he never did a day's workafter he landed. And me over there working thirteen a
nd fourteen hours aday, and half the time stony-broke! There's a brother for you! Cain wasa fool to him!"

  "But you must remember that after all you are going to reap the benefitof it now," Wrayson remarked.

  "Ah! but am I?" the young man exclaimed fiercely. "That's what I want toknow. Look here! I've been through every letter and every scrap of paperI can find, I've been to the bank and to his few pals, and strike me deadif I can find where that five hundred pounds came from every threemonths! It was in gold always; he must have gone and changed itsomewhere--five hundred golden sovereigns every three months, and I can'tfind where they came from!"

  "Have you been to a solicitor?" Wrayson asked.

  "Not yet," the young man answered. "I don't see what good he'll be when Ido. Morris was always one of the close sort, and I can't fancy himspending much over lawyers."

  "What made you come to me?" Wrayson inquired.

  "Well, the caretaker at the flat told me that you and Morris used tospeak now and then, and I'm trying every one. I'm afraid he wasn't quiteclassy enough for you to have palled up with, but I thought he might havelet something slip perhaps."

  Wrayson shook his head.

  "He never spoke to me of his affairs," he said. "He always seemed to haveplenty of money, though."

  "Doesn't the bank-book prove it?" the young man exclaimed excitedly."Every one who knew anything about him says the same. There was I halfstarved in Cape Town, and here was he spending two thousand a year.Beast, he was! I'll find out where it came from if it takes me alifetime."

  Wrayson leaned back in his chair. Nothing since the events of that nightitself had appealed to him more than the coming of this young man and hisstrange story.

  "I am sorry that I have no information to give you," he said. "On theother hand, if I can help you in any other way I shall be very glad."

  "What should you advise me to do?" the young man asked.

  "I should like to think the matter over carefully," Wrayson answered."What are your engagements for to-day? Can you lunch with me?"

  "I have no engagements," his visitor answered eagerly. "When andwhat time?"

  Wrayson repressed a smile.

  "I shall be ready in twenty minutes," he answered. "We will go outtogether if you don't mind waiting."

  "I'm on," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared, crossing his legs. "Don't you hurryon my account. I'll wait as long as you like."