'You've been a devil of a time. Do you think I want to stop up all night waiting for you?'
'That's all right. I'll tell you all about it when we get upstairs. Who's there?'
'Old Cox is there, that's who's there; and he looks to me as if he were going to stop there the rest of his life--hanged if he doesn't.'
Possibly Mr Burton had been quenching his thirst too frequently with the idea of speeding the heavy hours of his vigil. The result was obvious in his speech and his appearance. At the foot of the staircase he stumbled against the bottom stair. The newcomer proffered his assistance.
'Steady, governor. Let me lend you a hand.'
Mr Burton was at once upon his dignity.
'Don't you touch me. I don't want your hand. Do you think I don't know my way up my own staircase?'
He ascended it as if in doubt. The Flyman kept close behind in case of accident. Which fact Mr Burton, when he was half way up, discovered. Steadying himself against the banister he addressed his too-assiduous attendant.
'Might I ask you not to tread upon my heels? Might I also ask you to go down to the bottom of the stairs and wait there till I'm at the top? There's too much of it.'
'All right, governor. Only don't keep me here too long, that's all.'