"I want you to go back to my house in Park Lane, and for three weeks to live there as I should have done. If you are still alive at the end of that time, which is extremely improbable, you can do anything you please."
For one instant the thought struck me that the whole thing was a jest—the fruit of some ridiculous bet or the passing whim of a half-mad millionaire. But one glance at the hard blue eyes, which were still ruthlessly searching mine, swept the idea abruptly from my mind.
"But it's impossible," I broke out. "Even if your servants failed to see the difference, I should certainly be found out directly I met any of your friends."
"How?" he asked. "They might think I had become forgetful, eccentric, but what else could they imagine?"
"Oh, think of the hundred things I should be ignorant of: people's names, your appointments and business affairs—even my way about the house. Why, I should be bound to betray myself."
"I have thought of all that," he answered harshly. "If I couldn't provide against it, I should not have made the proposal."
I looked at him curiously. "And what is there to prevent me from taking your money and making no attempt to keep my side of the bargain?"
"Nothing," he said, "except your word of honour."
There was a moment's silence. "Well," I said, with a short laugh, "the security seems rather inadequate, but if it satisfies you—" I shrugged my shoulders. "Now, let me see if I have got this interesting offer quite correct. In return for ten thousand pounds—two thousand in notes and the rest by cheque—I am to become Mr. Stuart Northcote for three weeks. It is highly probable that during that time I shall be assassinated. Failing this unfortunate interruption, I shall then be at liberty to resume my own character."
Northcote bowed, half mockingly as it seemed. "You have stated the idea admirably," he said.