A sudden mischievous joy in the promised excitement of the situation came flooding through my heart. With an almost involuntary gesture I thrust my arm across the table.
"Very well," I said. "I promise you I'll do my best."
He gripped my hand, and for a moment we sat there on either side of the table without speaking a word.
Northcote was the first to break the silence.
"I envy you your nerve, Mr. Burton," he said coldly.
"It's not as good as it was," I replied, with regret.
Northcote tore a slip of paper out of his pocket-book and, laying it on the table, began to draw a plan in pencil. I pulled my chair round so that I could see what he was doing.
"I'm making you a rough sketch of the inside of the house," he said. "This is the ground floor, and here's the dining-room and the billiard-room. Your study and bedroom are on the first floor, exactly above. They open into each other—like this." He outlined the various rooms neatly and skilfully, writing their names in the centre of each square.
"That's plain enough," I said, taking the paper. "What about the servants?"
"There are only three of them—two women, and Milford, the butler. I have got rid of all the others during the last two weeks. These three have all been with me since I took the house, and I think you may trust them. Milford you certainly can. I've treated the man well, and he's by way of being rather grateful."