"Or murderess," Mr. Bentham murmured softly.

Wrayson reeled in his chair as though he had been struck a violent
and unexpected blow. He understood now the guarded menace of his
visitor's manner. He felt the man's eyes taking merciless note of his
whitening cheeks.

"My client," the lawyer continued, "desires to ask no questions. All that
he wants is the document to which he is entitled, and which was stolen on
the night when Mr. Morris Barnes met with his unfortunate accident."

Wrayson had pulled himself together with an effort.

"I presume," he said, "from your frequent reiteration, that I may take
this as being to some extent a personal offer. If so, let me assure you,
sir, that so far as I am concerned I know nothing whatever of any papers
or other belongings which were in the possession of my late neighbour. I
have never seen or heard of any. I do not even know why you should have
come to me at all."

"I came to you," Mr. Bentham said, "because I was very well aware that,
for some reason or other, your evidence at the inquest was not quite as
comprehensive as it might have been."

"Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me all that you know!" Wrayson exclaimed.
"Take my word for it, I know nothing of this document or paper. I have
neither seen it nor heard of it. I know nothing whatever of the man or
his affairs. I can't help you. I would if I could. On the other hand, you
can throw some light upon the motive for the crime. Who is your client?