"Ah, you flatter me, Signor—you flatter me—indeed you do," said the valet, with ironical humility.
His master well understood the tone in which the fellow spoke, but did not care to notice it.
"The fact is, Jacopo," continued Sir Richard, "you already know so many of my secrets, that I have now no motive in excluding you from any."
"Goode, kind—oh, very kind," ejaculated the valet.
"In short," continued his master, who felt a little uneasy under the praises of his attendant—"in short, to speak plainly, I want your assistance. I know your talents well. You can imitate any handwriting you please to copy with perfect accuracy. You must copy, in the handwriting of this manuscript, the draft of a letter which I will hand you this evening. You require some little time to study the character; so take the letter with you, and be in my room at ten to-night. I will then hand you the draft of what I want written. You understand?"
"Understand! To be sure—most certilly I weel do it," replied the Italian, "so that the great devil himself will not tell the writing of the two, l'un dall' altro, one from the other. Never fear—geeve me the letter. I must learn the writing. I weel be here to-night before you are arrive, and I weel do it very fast, and so like—bote you know how well I can copy. Ah! yees; you know it, Signor. I need not tell."
"No more at present," said the baronet, with a gesture of caution. "Assist me to dress."
The Italian accordingly was soon deep in the mysteries of his elaborate functions, where we shall leave him and his master for the present.
CHAPTER XVII.