The Prime Minister's jaw opened and closed spasmodically, so that his white beard wagged upon his breast. He made no answer. Silently the other ministers drew aside into two groups, leaving Westerham and the Premier facing each other in the centre of the room. With an effort, Lord Penshurst got the better of his agitated nerves and rapped out a sharp “What do you want?” “Lord Penshurst,” said Westerham, calmly, “you know who I am. You know on what mission I am here. If you refuse to come round the table to speak to me instantly and speak to me alone I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.” The Premier, without a word and with trailing steps began to make the circuit of the long table. As he approached, Westerham drew back so that now he was at the entrance to the council chamber. He beckoned Lord Penshurst still nearer. When the Premier was quite close to him he stooped and whispered into his ear so that none of the other ministers could by any chance catch his words. “If you want to save Lady Kathleen and yourself, you must come with me at once.” Lord Penshurst said, “It's impossible!” “Don't argue,” urged Westerham, almost roughly. “I regret to treat you with so much disrespect, but the crisis for which you have been waiting has now come. If you lose, you know what it will mean. But you need not lose if you will follow me now.” During this conversation the startled ministers had drawn together, and there was considerable outcry as Lord Penshurst turned to look at them with a white face. “Be quick,” said Westerham; “you must keep them quiet for about five minutes. Five minutes will do, but we must have that start. Don't fail, everything depends upon it.” “Gentlemen,” said the Premier, slowly and painfully, as a man speaking in a dream; “gentlemen, I must apologise for this interruption, but I assure you that the fault must not be laid at the door of this gentleman, but at mine. In five minutes I will return. In the meantime I have to discuss more important business than any which could detain me here.” The ministers looked at each other, utterly aghast. It was fortunate that Westerham's entry had been so swift and so volcanic that they were still partially dazed. Otherwise it might have been necessary for Westerham to take steps entailing consequences which no influence, however great, could possibly have averted. As it was, they gazed at the Premier and the tall form of Westerham, sullenly and stupidly. One of them, a younger man than the rest, suddenly remembered and cried out: “By George, it is the man who saved us all at the dance!” The other ministers looked at their colleague, with inquiry; but it was an inquiry as to the meaning of the stranger's presence, and not as to his exclamation. For the raid on Trant Hall was now a matter of public knowledge and consuming public interest.