"I can guess," the Colonel answered.

"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock," Wrayson declared, "I shall know who
killed Morris Barnes."




CHAPTER VI

ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD


But when the morrow came, and his visitor was shown into Wrayson's
private office, he was not quite so sure about it. Mr. Bentham had not in
the least the appearance of a murderer. Clean-shaven, a little slow in
speech, quietly dressed, he resembled more than anything a country
solicitor in moderate practice.

He bowed in correct professional manner, and laid a brown paper parcel
upon the table.

"I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Wrayson?"

Wrayson nodded a little curtly.

"And you, I suppose," he remarked, "are the owner of the mysterious
voice which summoned Morris Barnes to the Francis Hotel on the night of
his murder?"