"Well," I said, "if he swallows me as Stuart Northcote, I expect I shall pull through."
"Yes," returned Northcote. "The only other person you need worry about is my cousin—Maurice Furnivall." He paused. "I believe I have promised to go down and stay with him for several days in Suffolk. If you can get out of it without difficulty, perhaps you had better. In any case, be very careful not to make a slip of any sort when you see him."
"What kind of man is he?" I asked.
Northcote frowned. "I am not sure. He is the only relation I have in the world, and to a certain extent I have trusted him. I sometimes think I have been foolish. If I knew for certain—" His brow darkened still more, and his hands clenched until the white skin stood out upon his knuckles.
"There is a suggestion of thoroughness about your methods, Northcote," I observed, "that rather appeals to me."
"If I had stuck at trifles," said Northcote grimly, "I shouldn't be here now." He pulled out a cheque-book, and, taking up his pen again, filled in a cheque for eight thousand pounds.
"Here's the money," he said. "There are a few hundred pounds in my account besides this, and if you like I'll sign a couple of cheques that you can fill in for current expenses. By the way, it may be necessary for you to imitate my signature—do you think you can do it?"
"My experience as a forger is limited," I said, "but I dare say I can manage it with a little practice. What are you going to do about money yourself?"
He laughed. "My arrangements have been made for some time. I have only been waiting the chance of putting them into practice."
There came a sudden knock at the door.