to you. I admit it frankly. You are either an extremely ingenuous person, or a good deal too clever for me. In either case, if you will not treat with me, I need not waste your time."

Wrayson moved to the door and stood with his back to it.

"I am not at all sure," he said, "that I am justified in letting you go like this. You are in possession of information which would be invaluable to the police in their search for the murderer of Morris Barnes."

Mr. Bentham smiled coldly.

"And are not you," he remarked, "in the same fortunate position—with the unfortunate exception, perhaps, of having already given your testimony? Of the two, if disclosures had to be made, I think that I should prefer my own position."

Wrayson remained where he was.

"I am inclined," he said, "to risk it. At least you would be compelled to disclose your client's name."

Mr. Bentham visibly flinched. He recovered himself almost immediately, but the shadow of fear had rested for a moment, at any rate, upon his impassive features.

"I am entirely at your service," he said coldly. "My client has at least not broken the laws of his country."

Wrayson stood away from the door.

"You can go," he said shortly, "if you will leave me your address."

Mr. Bentham bowed.

"I regret that I have no card with me," he said, "but I have an office, a single room only, in number 8, Paper Buildings, Adelphi. If you should happen to come across—that document—"

Wrayson held open the door.

"If I should come to see you," he said, "it will be on other business."

Wrayson lunched at the club that morning, and received a warm greeting from his friends. The subject of the murder was, as though by common consent, avoided. Towards the end of the meal the Colonel received a telegram, which he read and laid down upon the table in front of him.

"By Jove!" he said softly, "I'd forgotten all about it. Boys, you've got to help me out."

"We're on," Mason declared. "What is 

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