And schooled as he was against the betrayal of any feeling, Westerham himself nearly uttered an exclamation, for the man who had entered the room so suddenly was the fat man out of whom he had knocked the sense the night before. The fat man closed the door behind him gently, and came into the centre of the room. “Sir Paul,” said Captain Melun, “allow me to present Mr. Bagley. Mr. Bagley is the manager of a branch of a great bank, and acts as our financier.” Mr. Bagley's sallow and greasy countenance broke into a hideously affable smile. Westerham found himself shaking hands with the man who held Lady Kathleen's secret. The pause which followed this introduction became so embarrassing that Mrs. Bagley suggested that they should go in to tea; and in a cheerful dining-room Westerham found himself looking curiously at the collection of tea and coffee pots, whisky decanters, bacon and eggs, and muffins and cakes, which were spread promiscuously on the clean white tablecloth. The conversation turned on many things, but for the most part upon the weather. When the little party had eaten and drunk their fill the captain rapped sharply on the table. There was complete silence, in which Melun rose, and having first closed the window he afterwards opened the door to satisfy himself that no one listened without. He then returned to his seat at the table and spoke quickly and in a low voice. “I have told you,” he said rapidly, “how I met Sir Paul.” The baronet could not resist the luxury of a sardonic little smile. Melun saw it and winced, but went boldly on with his subject. “It is quite excusable,” he said, “for the richest man on the earth to desire to indulge his whims, and if we can assist Sir Paul to humour his, to his own advantage and ours, then so much the better for us all. The terms which Sir Paul has offered are generous to a degree, while the risks we run are slight. Sir Paul has not pressed us in any way. He desired in return for the money he was about to hand over to us to make the acquaintance—of my friends. He has now met them, and I trust that he is at least satisfied.” Westerham bowed. “For the present, therefore,” the captain continued, “there remains nothing to be said and nothing to be done. We, of course, have several things to discuss, and I am sure that Sir Paul will not take it amiss if we ask him to excuse us. It is quite impossible for him to take part in our counsels. There is no immediate hurry, but still we must talk matters over before it is much later.” Westerham rose to his feet. Truth to tell, he desired to shake off the dust of Herne Hill, not so much to enable Captain Melun's extraordinary friends to discuss their plans, but because he was sufficiently bored to wish to leave them. To Westerham's surprise, however, Mme. Estelle rose too. “My carriage is, I think, waiting for me,” she said in an almost gentle voice, “and if Sir Paul will allow me I will drive him back.”