"I dusn't say, sir," he answered. "I dusn't say." He looked to right and left, as it seemed to me instinctively, and as though to assure himself that no one else was present, that no one overheard him. It was evident to me that there was somebody he feared. Several times I tried tactfully to "draw" him, but to no purpose. "I should like to look over the house again," I said at last. "I know it well, for I stayed here often in days gone by, though I don't recollect ever seeing you here. How long is it since Sir Charles stayed here?" "Three years come Lady Day," he answered. "And has the house been empty ever since? Has it never been sub-let?" "Never. Sir Charles never would sub-let it, though there were some who wanted it." "Well, I will look over it, I think," I said, moving to rise. "I'm inclined to rent it myself; that's really why I am here." He may, or may not, have believed the lie. Anyway, my suggestion filled him with alarm. He got up out of his chair. "You can't, you can't," he exclaimed, greatly perturbed. He pushed his skinny hand into his jacket-pocket, and I heard him clutch his bunch of keys. "The doors are all locked--all locked." "You have the keys; give them to me." "I dusn't, I dusn't, indeed. All, you are a gen'leman, sir, you won't take the keys from an old man, sir, I know you won't." "Sit down," I said, sharply. Idle curiosity had prompted me to wish to go over the house. The old man's anxiety that I should not do so settled my determination. My thought travelled quickly. "Have you a drop of anything to drink that you can give me?" I asked suddenly. "I should like a little whisky--or anything else will do." Again the expression of dismay came into his old eyes. "Don't tempt me, sir, ah, don't tempt me!" he exclaimed. "Sir Charles made me promise as long as I was with him I wouldn't touch a drop. I did once. Oh, I did once." "And what happened?" He hid his face in his hands, as if to shut out some horrid memory. "Don't ask me what happened, sir, don't ask me. And I swore I wouldn't touch a drop again. And I haven't got a drop--except a cup of tea." The kettle on the gas-stove had been boiling for some time. My intention--an evil one--when I had asked for something alcoholic, had been to induce the old man to drink with me until the effects of the whisky should cause him to overcome his scruples and hand over his keys. But tea! At that moment my elbow rested on something hard in my pocket. Almost at the same moment an idea flashed into my brain. I tried to dispel it, but it wouldn't go. I allowed my mind to dwell upon it, and quickly it obsessed me. Why, I don't know, but since the chemist had returned the little flask to me, after analysing its contents, I had carried it in my pocket constantly. It was there now. It was the flask that my elbow had pressed, recalling it to my mind. "Twenty drops will send a strong man to sleep--for ever," he had said.