He seemed scarcely to hear me. "Yes, yes, of course," he replied absently.
Puzzled and a bit irritated by his air of detachment, I remained silent.
He took a deep breath and then spoke rapidly, running some of his words together. "Robert Chilton-Payne, the Twelfth Earl of Chilton, was buried in the family vaults one week ago. Frederick, the young heir and now Thirteenth Earl, came of age just three days ago. Tonight it is imperative that he be conducted to the secret chamber!"
I gaped at him in incredulous amazement. For a moment I had an idea that he had somehow heard of my interest in Chilton Castle and was merely "pulling my leg" for amusement in the belief that I was the greenest of gullible tourists.
But there could be no mistaking his deadly seriousness. There was not the faintest suspicion of humor in his eyes.
I groped for words. "It seems so strange—so unbelievable! Just before you arrived, I had been thinking about the various legends connected with the secret room."
His cold eyes held my own. "It is not legend that confronts us; it is fact."
A thrill of fear and excitement ran through me. "You are going there—tonight?"
He nodded. "Tonight. Myself, the young Earl—and one other."
I stared at him.