But just ahead of him he saw the dark entrance to what apparently was a landing. He moved towards this, and found himself suddenly face to face with her. She was sitting almost huddled up in a little chair at the foot of the staircase. As she saw him approach she lifted up both her hands as though to thrust him away, and her face from deadly white flushed to a bright crimson. “No, no!” she cried in a low tone, “let matters rest as they are. I shook hands with you just now, but I did not know that you had come—with that man.” “You think he is my friend?” asked Westerham, gently. “How can I doubt it?” asked Lady Kathleen. “Well,” said Westerham, with a quiet little laugh, “I admit that he appears to be, but that is to suit my purpose and to gain my own ends.” “I thought so,” she murmured. “Yes, yes,” replied Westerham, quickly, “but don't misunderstand me—my ends may be selfish, but they are not criminal.” Lady Kathleen started violently. Westerham glanced about him to see that they were unobserved; he found that they were quite alone. “I must speak quickly,” he said, “as I know it is impossible for you to stay here long, but please hear me out. “That night,” he nodded in the direction of the Park, “I knew nothing. I do not know very much now, except that I have discovered a connecting link between Bagley and Melun. Why they persecute you and your father I do not know; I wish I did, for I would then, perhaps, be able to help you. These men are knaves and cowards, and they are also fools. I do not want to boast, but one good man could easily defeat them. Why not tell me what troubles you?” Lady Kathleen looked at him appealingly and doubtfully, then she rose to her feet. “I must not. I do not know who you are, or even what your name is, and although you seem to be Melun's friend, I feel that I might trust you; but, oh! if you were persecuted as we are persecuted you would trust no man.” Westerham was about to persuade her further, but at this moment her father came quickly through the doorway. “Kathleen!” he cried. The girl started up and caught her father's arm. The old man turned quickly towards Westerham; his face was ablaze with passion. “As for you, sir,” he cried in a low voice, “leave my house, leave my house at once.” Westerham threw out a deprecating hand. “If you will only hear me, Lord Penshurst.” “I have told that scoundrel Melun that I will have no further dealing with him or any of his crew.” “But I—” urged Westerham. “Be silent,” cried the Prime Minister in a voice of suppressed fury. “Do you think that you have not heaped sufficient dishonour on my head already? But there is a point beyond which you shall not go. I will not have my house and my daughter degraded in this way.”