"Why not?" the young man demanded fiercely. "It's my money, isn't it? I can take out letters of administration. It belongs to me. He'll have to give it up."
"In the long run I should say that he will—if he has it," Wrayson answered. "But before you go to him, remember this. He has seen the account of your brother's death. He did not appear at the inquest. He has taken no steps to discover his next of kin. Both of these proceedings were part of his natural duty."
"Mr. Wrayson is quite right," the Baroness remarked. "Mr. Bentham has not behaved as an honest man. He will have to be treated firmly but carefully. You are a little excited just now. Wait for an hour or so, and perhaps Mr. Wrayson will go with you."
Barnes turned towards him eagerly, and Wrayson nodded.
"Yes! I'll go," he said. "I know Mr. Bentham slightly. He once paid me rather a curious visit. But never mind that now."
"Was it in connection with this affair?" the Baroness asked him quietly.
Wrayson affected not to hear. He passed his cigarette case to Barnes, who was stamping up and down the room, muttering to himself.
"Look here, you'd better have a smoke and calm down, young man," he said. "It's no use going to see Bentham in a state like this."
The young man threw himself into a chair. Suddenly he sat up again, and addressed the Baroness.
"I say," he exclaimed, "how is it that you have a key to this flat? What did you come here for this afternoon?"