With him came Mendip, the younger of the two men whom he had met in such curious circumstances at the gaming club on the night when Kathleen had staked her father's honour against the bank and, for the time, lost. Mendip was one of those strange, tired men who appear to do nothing and yet accomplish much. He was slow of speech, but quick in action when occasion demanded; silent, serious, and of a character built to bear with resolution any temptation or trial which might arise. Dunton trusted him implicitly, and, in spite of his short acquaintance with him, Westerham trusted him too. A third person had been necessary for the enterprise, and had been found in the person of Tom Lowther, a good-natured young giant, who laughed his way through what, to him, was a laughing world. It was with an immense grin of satisfaction that he had taken on his shoulders the task of driving the car in which Westerham set out on his desperate enterprise. Dunton had left his chambers early in the morning, so that about eleven o'clock all the men who had been selected to drag the Premier's secret from him had gathered in Dunton's rooms. There, half humorously, Westerham had explained the project to them, basing his argument upon a lesson drawn from an abortive raid which certain suffragettes had made upon the official residence not long before. What woman could attempt, he had argued, man could decidedly accomplish. So the plan was mapped out; and according to the arrangements which Westerham made, Lowther backed the car round in Downing Street and drew it up alongside the curb, so that its head pointed towards Whitehall, and, as Westerham hoped, the high road of escape. It was astonishing that, in spite of the suffragettes' attempt on Downing Street, more precautions were not taken. For all he knew, Westerham might have had to encounter worse opposition than he did. But he was prepared for all emergencies, and, moreover, determined not to spare drastic measures if it came to a tight corner. As he drew up to the door, Westerham hoped that the immaculate Dunton might play his part as well as he intended to play his own. Dunton had gone down to Chichester, and had ordered his yacht to await him in the fair way off Selsey Bill. It was to Dunton's yacht that Westerham determined to take the Premier. As the car came to a standstill, Westerham and Mendip alighted quickly, and without hesitation pulled the little brass knob at No. 10. As they expected, the door was pulled open quickly, and the head, followed by the figure, of the Premier's official door-keeper appeared in the entry. Westerham was first up the steps, with Mendip hard at his heels.