His sea-green eyes were now blazing, and his mouth was shut like a trap. “I have been introduced as your friend,” he continued, “and therefore I propose to visit Limehouse whensoever I choose.” “But you cannot,” cried Melun. “Oh, yes, my dear man, but I can, and, what is more, I mean to. You had better leave that to me. I already see that I am more qualified to deal with those ruffians down yonder than you are. I am not the least alarmed by their blustering, however much you may be. “And so,” he went on, “I would have you understand clearly and without any mistake that I will have no women fetched into that den of iniquity on any pretext whatsoever. You understand me?” Melun nodded feebly. He was completely crushed and beaten. “Henceforward, too,” Westerham continued, “I am going to adopt a different attitude towards you. Once, I confess, I had a few uneasy feelings that, with what you are pleased to call your ‘endless resources,’ you might do me some injury. A good many people disappear in London, and I fancied for a little while I might become one of the lost ones, but, heavens! it is amazing to think that I should ever have felt the least disquiet. You and your precious friends are cowards, every one of you. “However, we will leave that subject now and proceed to another which is of more importance and interest to me.” Draining his whisky-and-soda, Westerham leaned back in his chair and smoked thoughtfully for a few minutes, keeping his gaze on the pale and cowering Melun. Then he reached out for the newspaper, in which during the afternoon he had read that the Prime Minister was to give a reception on the morrow. Folding it carefully so as to mark the place, Westerham laid the paper down beside Melun and tapped the all-important paragraph with a quick, incisive finger. “I would recall to your mind,” he said to the captain, “that I explained to you on the _Gigantic_ that my sole object in returning to London was to make the acquaintance of the girl in the picture—the girl you informed me was the Lady Kathleen Carfax. Now I find you, even on this short acquaintance, such a braggart that I am inclined to doubt everything you say. So I am going to test your boast that you know Lady Kathleen, and that you have the _entrée_ to Lord Penshurst's house. Did you lie to me on that matter or did you not?” “I did not,” said Melun, with some signs of returning spirit. In his excitement he would indeed have leapt from his chair, but Westerham gave him a little push in the chest which sat him down again. “Not so fast,” he said, “you are here to listen to what I have to say. “You tell me,” he continued, after a slight pause, “that what you said was true. In that case I demand as part of our bargain that you should take me to Lord Penshurst's to-morrow night.” Melun became livid. “I will never do it,” he cried.