'It is very kind of Mr Burns,' he said in his fruitiest voice, 'but I hardly think it will be necessary to put him to the inconvenience of altering his plans. I am sure that Mr Ford would prefer the entire charge of the affair to be in my hands.' He had not chosen a happy moment for the introduction of the millionaire's name. Mr Abney was a man of method, who hated any dislocation of the fixed routine of life; and Mr Ford's letter had upset him. The Ford family, father and son, were just then extremely unpopular with him. He crushed Sam. 'What Mr Ford would or would not prefer is, in this particular matter, beside the point. The responsibility for the boy, while he remains on the school premises, is--ah--mine, and I shall take such precautions as seem fit and adequate to--him--myself, irrespective of those which, in your opinion, might suggest themselves to Mr Ford. As I cannot be here myself, owing to--ah--urgent business in London, I shall certainly take advantage of Mr Burns's kind offer to remain as my deputy.' He paused and blew his nose, his invariable custom after these occasional outbursts of his. Sam had not wilted beneath the storm. He waited, unmoved, till all was over: 'I am afraid I shall have to be more explicit,' he said: 'I had hoped to avoid scandal and unpleasantness, but I see it is impossible.' Mr Abney's astonished face emerged slowly from behind his handkerchief. 'I quite agree with you, sir, that somebody should be here to help me look after the boy, but not Mr Burns. I am sorry to have to say it, but I do not trust Mr Burns.' Mr Abney's look of astonishment deepened. I, too, was surprised. It was so unlike Sam to fling away his chances on a blundering attack like this. 'What do you mean?' demanded Mr Abney. 'Mr Burns is after the boy himself. He came to kidnap him.' Mr Abney, as he had every excuse for doing, grunted with amazement. I achieved the ringing laugh of amused innocence. It was beyond me to fathom Sam's mind. He could not suppose that any credence would be given to his wild assertion. It seemed to me that disappointment had caused him momentarily to lose his head. 'Are you mad, White?' 'No, sir. I can prove what I say. If I had not gone to London with him that last time, he'd have got away with the boy then, for certain.' For an instant an uneasy thought came to me that he might have something in reserve, something unknown to me, which had encouraged him to this direct attack. I dismissed the notion. There could be nothing. Mr Abney had turned to me with a look of hopeless bewilderment. I raised my eyebrows. 'Ridiculous,' I said. That this was the only comment seemed to be Mr Abney's view. He turned on Sam with the pettish anger of the mild man. 'What do you _mean_, White, by coming to me with such a preposterous story?'