CHAPTER XVIII
AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE
Wrayson easily discovered the object of his search. She was seated upon alounge in the promenade, her ample charms lavishly displayed, and herblackened eyes mutely questioning the passers-by. She welcomed Wraysonwith a smile which she meant to be inviting, albeit she was a littlesuspicious. Men of Wrayson's stamp and appearance were not often sucheasy victims.
"Saw you at Luigi's, didn't I?" he asked, hat in hand.
She nodded, and made room for him to sit down by her side.
"Did you see the old stick I was with?" she asked. "I don't know why Iwas fool enough to go out with him. Trying to pump me about poor oldBarney, too, all the time. Just as though I couldn't see through him."
"Old Barney!" Wrayson repeated, a little perplexed.
She laughed coarsely.
"Oh! come, that won't do!" she declared. "I'm almost sure you're on thesame lay yourself. Didn't I see you at the inquest?--Morris Barnes'inquest, of course? You know whom I mean right enough."
"I know whom you mean now," Wrayson admitted. "Yes! I was there. Queeraffair, wasn't it?"
The lady nodded.
"I should like a liqueur," she remarked, with apparent irrelevance."Benedictine!"
They were seated in front of a small table, and were at times the objectof expectant contemplation on the part of a magnificent individual inlivery and knee-breeches. Wrayson summoned him and ordered twoBenedictines.
"Now I don't mind telling you," the lady continued, leaning over towardshim confidentially, "that I'm dead off that old man who came prying roundand took me out to dinner, to pump me about poor Barney! He didn't getmuch out of me. For one thing, I don't know much. But the little I doknow I'd sooner tell you than him."
"You're very kind," Wrayson murmured. "He used to come to these places agood deal, didn't he?"
She nodded assent.
"He was always either here or at the Empire. He wasn't a bad sort,Barney, although he was just like all the rest of them, close with hismoney when he was sober, and chucking it about when he'd had a drop toomuch. What did you want to know about him in particular?"
"Well, for one thing," Wrayson answered, "where he got his money from."
She shook her head.
"He was always very close about that," she said. "The only story I everheard him tell was that he'd made it mining in South Africa."
"You have really heard him say that?" Wrayson asked.
"Half a dozen times," she declared.
"That proves, at any rate," he remarked thoughtfully, "that there wassome mystery about his income, because I happen to know that he cameback from South Africa a pauper."
"Very likely," she remarked. "Barney was always the sort who would rathertell a lie than the truth."
"Did he say anything to you that night about being in any kind ofdanger?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"No! I don't think so. I didn't take particular notice of what he said,because he was a bit squiffy. I believe he mentioned some thing about abusiness appointment that night, but I really didn't take much notice."
"You didn't tell them anything about that at the inquest," Wraysonremarked.
"I know I didn't," she admitted. "You see, I was so knocked over, and Ireally didn't remember anything clearly, that I thought it was best tosay nothing at all. They'd only have been trying to ferret things out ofme that I couldn't have told them."
"I think that you were very wise," Wrayson said. "You don't happen toremember anything else that he said, I suppose?"
"No! except that he seemed a little depressed. But there's something elseabout Barney that I always suspected, that I've never heard mentionedyet. Mind you, it may be true or it may not, but I always suspected it."
"What was that?" Wrayson demanded.
"I believe that he was married," she declared impressively.
"Married!"
Wrayson looked incredulous. It certainly did not seem probable.
"Where is his wife then?" he asked. "Why hasn't she turned up to claimhis effects? Besides, he lived alone. He was my neighbour, you know. Hisbrother has taken possession of his flat."
The lady rather enjoyed the impression she had made. She was not averse,either, to being seen in so prominent a place in confidential talk with aman of Wrayson's appearance. It might not be directly remunerative, butit was likely to do her good.
"He showed me a photograph once," she continued. "A baby-faced chit of agirl it was, but he was evidently very proud of it. A little girl of hisdown in the country, he told me. Then, do you know this? He was never inLondon for Sunday. Every week-end he went off somewhere; and I neverheard of any one who ever saw him or knew where he went to."
"This is very interesting," Wrayson admitted; "but if he was married,surely his wife would have turned up by now!"
"Why should she?" the lady answered. "Don't you see that she very likelyhas what all you gentlemen seem to be so anxious about--his income?"
"By Jove!" Wrayson exclaimed softly. "Of course, if there wasanything mysterious about the source of it, all the more reason forher to keep dark."
"Well, that's what I've had in my mind," she declared, summoning thewaiter. "I'll take another liqueur, if you don't mind."
Wrayson nodded. His thoughts were travelling fast.
"Did you tell Mr. Bentham this?" he asked.
"Not I," she answered. "The old fool got about as much out of me as hedeserved--and that's nothing."
"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," Wrayson answered, drawing out hispocketbook. "I wonder if I might be allowed--?"
He glanced at her inquiringly. She nodded. "I'm not proud," shedeclared.
* * * * *
"As an amateur detective," Wrayson remarked to himself, as he strolledhomewards, "I am beginning rather to fancy myself. And yet--"
His thoughts had stolen away. He forgot Morris Barnes and the sordidmystery of which he was the centre. He remembered only the compellingcause which was driving him towards the solution of it. The night waswarm, and he walked slowly, his hands behind him, and ever before hiseyes the shadowy image of the girl who had brought so many strangesensations into his somewhat uneventful life. Would he ever see her, hewondered, without the light of trouble in her eyes, with colour in hercheeks, and joy in her tone? He thought of her violet-rimmed eyes, herhesitating manner, her air always as of one who walked hand in hand withfear. She was not meant for these things! Her lips and eyes were made forlaughter; she was, after all, only a girl. If he could but lift thecloud! And then he looked upwards and saw her--leaning from the littleiron balcony, and looking out into the cool night.
He half stopped. She did not move. It was too dark to see her features,but as he looked upwards a strange idea came to him. Was it a gesture orsome unspoken summons which travelled down to him through thesemi-darkness? He only knew, as he turned and entered the flat, that anew chapter of his life was opening itself out before him.
The Avenger Page 18
