“Now I have left nothing to chance. Westerham, if you please, must go nosing around the garage in Rupert Street to find out where his car is. It had gone, of course, to Holyhead as the result of my instructions. The manager wired to the chauffeur at Chester to return to town at once. But I wired to Birmingham to stop it there. Crow went down and dismissed the chauffeur, saying that he came from Westerham. The car is now in Chelsea, and we shall have the pleasure of using it to-day. It is just the car we want, because for some reason or other Westerham had it fitted with blind shutters.” Madame nodded her head. “We will telephone to Westminster and get the car to meet us at Oxford Circus. You can go down to Downing Street, and I will take a taxicab to the Star and Garter, Richmond. When you get to No. 10 simply ask for the Lady Kathleen, but give no name and refuse your business. That will merely arouse her curiosity, and the fact that you come in such a car will certainly obtain you an audience.” Melun then went on to give Madame various instructions, enjoining her not to talk to Lady Kathleen on the way down to Richmond. They then took a cab to Oxford Circus together and telephoned from the District Messengers' office to the garage at Chelsea for the car to come on to them at once at Pagani's. It was shortly after twelve o'clock when Westerham's car reached the famous restaurant in Great Portland Street. Melun, as he took leave of Mme. Estelle, again enjoined her to silence; and though Madame promised that she would not discuss his affairs with Lady Kathleen, she was, if the truth were told, not quite decided whether she would keep her word. Her arrival in Downing Street occasioned a little surprise and not a little curiosity on the part of the doorkeeper when she refused to give her name. Without much delay, however, she was shown into the long, old-fashioned drawing-room, and it was not many minutes before Lady Kathleen appeared. Kathleen came into the room very quietly. The sudden alarms and excursions amid which she had lately lived were accustoming her to strange and unexpected events, and she instinctively guessed that the woman who awaited her in the drawing-room was in some way connected with her father's secret. As she entered the room Mme. Estelle rose from her seat and bowed. She did not attempt to shake hands, nor, indeed, did Lady Kathleen make any demonstration of friendship. During the short drive from Oxford Street Madame had rehearsed her little part to herself. Now she played it perfectly. “Russia needs you,” she said. Kathleen's face paled, and she drew back a step. “I don't quite understand,” she said.