Faversham was silent a moment, observing the man before him.  The whole thing was too astounding.  At last he said:  “You are not prepared, sir, you say, to spend unlimited money.  But the sum you offer me is unheard of.”

“For an agent, yes—­for a secretary, yes—­for a combination of the two, under the peculiar circumstances, the market offers no precedents.  You and I make a market—­and a price.”

“You would expect me to live in this house?”

“I gather these rooms are not disagreeable to you?”

“Disagreeable!  They are too sumptuous.  If I did this thing, sir, I should want to do it in a businesslike way.”

“You want an office?  Take your choice.”  Melrose’s gesture indicated the rest of the house.  “There are rooms enough.  But you will want some place, I imagine, where you can be at home, receive friends—­like the young lady and her mother yesterday—­and so on.”

His smile made him more Ogreish than before.

He resumed: 

“And by the way, if you accepted my proposal, I should naturally expect that for a time you would devote yourself wholly to the organization of the collections, inside the house, and to the work of the estate, outside it.  But you are of an age when a man hopes to marry.  I should of course take that into account.  In a year or two—­”

“Oh, I have no immediate ideas of that kind,” said Faversham, hastily.

There was a pause.  At the end of it Faversham turned on his companion.  A streak of feverish colour, a sparkling vivacity in the eyes, showed the effect produced by the conversation.  But he had kept his head throughout the whole interview, and a certain unexpected strength in his personality had revealed itself to Melrose: 

“You will hardly expect me, sir, to give an immediate answer to these proposals?”

“Take your time—­take your time—­in moderation,” said Melrose, drumming on the table before him.

“And there are of course a few things that I on my side should wish to know.”

A series of inquiries followed:  as to the term of the proposed engagement; the degree of freedom that would be granted him; the date at which his duties would begin, supposing he undertook them—­("To-morrow, if it pleases you!” said Melrose, jovially)—­passing on to the general circumstances of the estates, and the nature of the pending litigations.  The questions were put with considerable tact, but were none the less shrewd.  Melrose’s strange character with its mixture of sagacity, folly, and violence, had never been more acutely probed—­though quite indirectly.

At the end of them his companion rose.

“You have a talent for cross-examination,” he said with a rather sour smile.  “I leave you.  We have talked enough.”

“Let me at least express before you go the gratitude I feel for proposals so flattering—­so generous,” said Faversham, not without emotion; “and for all the kindness I have received here, a kindness that no man could ever forget.”