You may realise, too, how desperate my position is, when I say that I have at last accepted your offer of help much as a drowning man clutches at a straw. CHAPTER XXIII A GRISLY THREAT Westerham had listened to Lord Penshurst's long recital with great attention. From time to time he raised his eyebrows, but for the rest he gave no sign of astonishment. As the Premier concluded Westerham rose and held out his hand. “We have not much time before us, Lord Penshurst,” he said, “but I think I can promise you that you shall have the papers back before the three days are out. “Meantime,” he continued, “let us get back to Downing Street at once, and in spite of the sensation that your continued disappearance will cause, I think you had better not let it be known that you are back at your official residence. To do that would be to allow Melun to suppose that I had failed in my purpose, and if he thinks that—then we shall fail indeed.” The return to Downing Street was made in Lowther's car, and the Premier entered No. 10 by the back door. There they were met by the news of Lady Kathleen's disappearance, and the aged and much-shaken Premier was utterly prostrated with grief. The situation, of course, was not only painful, but dangerous. The news of the disappearance of the Prime Minister had created a profound sensation, not only in England, but abroad, and the cables all over the world were humming with the news of the astounding event. Downing Street had at once been cleared of the public, but, seeking to allay alarm as far as possible, those in authority had permitted the representatives of various newspapers to wait about the house for tidings. As it was close on midnight and the newspapers were nearing the approach of the next day's issue, the reporters were clamouring for some word. Westerham therefore decided to take a bold course, and he issued a short statement to the effect that the Premier and his daughter had merely left town for a few days, and that there was not the slightest cause for public anxiety. The public, of course, knew better, for practically every detail of the breaking open of the Cabinet Council Chamber had been passed from mouth to mouth. The episode, indeed, was already the wonder of the age. Late as was the hour of their return to Downing Street, Westerham decided on immediate action in his search for Lady Kathleen, and summoned help from Scotland Yard. When the inevitable Mr. Rookley presented himself, Westerham, despite the terrible anxiety of the moment, could not restrain a little smile. Rookley started back as he saw him and his face blanched. Westerham's explanation, though not wholly satisfactory to the detective, was to the point. “I think it would have been better if you had told me before, Sir Paul,” the detective grumbled. “Never mind about that,” said Westerham, shortly, “we must get to work.”