"They certainly have not," Mr. Bentham declared. "They still remain--the property by inheritance of this young gentleman here--Mr. Sydney Barnes, I believe." His tone was so even, so expressionless, that its slightest changes were noticeable. It seemed to Wrayson that a faint note of sarcasm had crept into these last few words. Mr. Barnes himself, however, was quite oblivious of it. His yellow-stained fingers were spread out upon the table. He leaned over towards the lawyer. His under lip protruded, his deep-set eyes seemed closer than ever together. He was grimly, tragically in earnest. "Look here," he said. "What can I do to get hold of 'em? I don't care what it is. I'm game! I'll deal with your man--the cash client. I'll give you a commission, see! Five per cent on all I get. How's that? I'll play fair. Now chuck away all this mystery. What were these securities? Where shall I start looking for them?" Mr. Bentham regarded him with stony face. "There are certain points," he said, "upon which I cannot enlighten you. My duty to my client forbids it. I cannot describe to you the nature of those securities. I cannot suggest where you should look for them. All that I can say is that they are still to be found, and that my client is still a buyer." The young man turned to Wrayson. His face was twitching with some emotion, probably anger. "Did you ever hear such bally rot!" he exclaimed. "He knows all about these securities all right. They belong to me. He ought to be made to tell." Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. "It does seem rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it?" he remarked. "Can't you tell him a little more, Mr. Bentham?" Mr. Bentham sighed, as though his impotence were a matter of sincere regret to him. "The only advice I can offer Mr. Barnes," he said, "is that he induce you to aid him in his search. Between you, I should never be surprised to hear of your success." "And why," Wrayson asked, "should you consider me such a useful ally?" Mr. Bentham looked at him steadily for a moment. "You appear to me," he said, "to be a young man of intelligence--and you know how to keep your own counsel. I should consider Mr. Barnes very fortunate if you could make up your mind to aid him in his search." "It is not my affair," Wrayson answered stiffly. "I could not possibly pledge myself to enter upon such a wild-goose chase." Mr. Bentham turned over some papers which lay upon the table before him. He had apparently had enough of the conversation. "You must not call it exactly that, Mr. Wrayson," he said. "Mr. Barnes' success in his quest would probably result in an act of justice to society. To you personally, I should imagine it would be expressly interesting." "What do you mean?" Wrayson asked, quickly. The lawyer looked at him calmly. "It should solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder!" he answered. Wrayson touched his companion on the shoulder.