He fumbled for a few moments in the darkness till he found the electric bell. This he pushed, purposely giving the same number of rings which he had heard Melun give knocks on the door at Limehouse. There was a light in the dining-room window, and a few minutes later the door was quietly opened. Westerham put his foot against it and squeezed inside. The hall was dimly lit, but there was sufficient light to see Patmore's face go white as he realised that he had been fooled. In a moment Westerham had him pinned against the wall. “Don't cry out,” he whispered, “or it will be the worse for you.” With his great strength he pinned Patmore's flabby arms to his side and ran him through the door on the right, which stood open. Still holding Patmore in his grip, he kicked the door to and thrust him down into a chair. “Tell me where Lady Kathleen is?” he said in a low, fierce whisper. Patmore remained silent. “Tell me,” said Westerham again, “and tell me quickly. Tell me at once or you will regret it.” Patmore gave a sudden wrench and twisted one of his arms free. He reached out and grasped a heavy silver candlestick. But again Westerham was too quick for him. He dealt him a blow on the muscles of his shoulder which half-paralysed Patmore's arm. The candlestick dropped with a clatter from his hand. Westerham gave his pent-up passion full play, and it was a miracle that he did not kill his man. He dragged an antimacassar from a chair and used it as a gag. With one powerful hand he dragged Patmore by the neck to the window; with the other he threw up the casement and whistled sharply for Lowther. Lowther came running up the steps and through the open door. “We'll bind this cur,” said Westerham through his teeth. And they fastened his hands and his feet together. “Now then,” said Westerham to Lowther, “heat that poker in the fire.” For a second Lowther hesitated to obey. “Do as I tell you,” whispered Westerham, and his face was the face of a madman. Lowther thrust the poker between the bars. * * * * * Lowther found a syphon of soda-water and brought Patmore to by squirting his face; then Westerham lifted the man up as though he were a child and threw him into the car. Lowther climbed to the steering wheel and headed south for Kent. Westerham knew where Lady Kathleen was held prisoner. CHAPTER XXV THE LAST FIGHT As the car ran southwards and came to Oxford Street, Westerham thrust Patmore on to the floor and sat holding him between his knees. Without pity, he again seized the shrinking man's neck in his great hands. “Understand,” he said in a low voice, “that if you attempt to cry out you will be strangled.” Patmore made a choking noise to indicate that he understood, and the car went on at a great pace through Regent Street across Piccadilly, and so reached Whitehall.