“Why will you not let us rest? Why do you pursue us in this way? Surely it is inhuman to adopt these methods. You know what you want, and you have practically the power of obtaining it. Is it fair to drag me to a place like this and insult me in this way?” The man mumbled something which Westerham could not catch. Then he heard the girl utter a little cry. “Look!” she exclaimed eagerly. “Look! I will make you an offer. Free us from this horrible nightmare, give me your word that you will not persecute us further, and I will give you these.” Westerham heard the rustle of draperies, and was conscious that the girl reached out her hands. The man took something from her. His head was bent over the object, whatever it might be, long and earnestly. Then he heard a thick voice, with a distinctly Semitic lisp, say, “They are beautiful, very beautiful. But what are they to us? You think they are worth a hundred thousand pounds, eh? Suppose they are—what of that? Do you think a hundred thousand pounds can close our lips? Do you think a hundred thousand pounds can save your father? Bah!” The man chuckled thickly. “But they are very pretty baubles,” he went on, “and seeing you offer them to me, I see no reason why I should not keep them.” “Ah!” cried the girl. “Then you will be silent?” “Silent!” exclaimed the man, “Silent, for this much! Not us! Why, it's ridiculous.” “Then give them back to me,” said the girl, quietly, with a quaver in her voice. “Give them back to me. Would you rob me?” “I am not robbing you,” answered the man, sullenly. “I am taking what you offered me. I shall not give them back. It is impossible for you to make me. You would cry out, would you? What good would that do? Cry out, call a policeman—do what you like—what will it mean for you except exposure? What will it mean for your father except ruin? Give them back? Not I! I——” But his speech ended suddenly at this point, for Westerham, always quick to action, took quick action now. Moving round the trunk of the tree, he caught the man deftly by the collar of his coat, kicked his heels from under him, and brought him with a heavy crash to the ground. The man lay still. In a second Westerham was on his knees beside the prostrate figure. With swift fingers he searched the man's clothing and found a mass of jewels in the breast-pocket of the man's outer coat. In a twinkling he had them out, and, rising to his feet, he held a heavy string of diamonds towards the girl. “Madam,” he cried, “permit me to befriend you. I do not know who you are, but—” His voice trailed away into a little gasp. For the frightened face that stared at him with starting eyes was the face of the girl in the picture. In this strange manner did Westerham meet Lady Kathleen Carfax. CHAPTER IV THE RED-HAIRED WOMAN Westerham stood still gazing stupidly at the girl and holding out the jewels towards her. When he had recovered from his great surprise he moved a step nearer to her.