“You had better not try,” Melun answered. “There is one thing which apparently you have not taken into your calculations. You forget that Lord Penshurst—I admit that your suspicions of a tie between us are correct—is quite as much interested in keeping me silent as I am in keeping silent myself.” Westerham had foreseen this point, and was prepared with an answer. “You forget,” he said, “that it might suit my convenience to become Lord Penshurst's friend.” “Have a care,” cried Melun, angrily; “you don't know what you say.” “What do you mean?” demanded Westerham. “I mean,” said Melun, softly, “that I can strike back where it will hit you most.” Instinctively Westerham clenched his hands. “Possibly,” he said, “but you cannot blackmail me, and though since I met you first I knew you were a blackmailer, I did not know you aimed so high as to blackmail the Prime Minister.” He paused for a few moments before he spoke again; when he did his voice was even and low; but Melun did not like the ring in it. “In fact,” Westerham resumed, “I have seen enough to convince me that what you are after must be very big game indeed. What it is, of course, I do not know, and it would simply be idle on my part to pretend that I did. But I have the capacity of being infinitely patient, and sooner or later I shall find out. I will not press you because I think that I should simply land myself into difficulties, which would make matters harder than they are.” He rose and walked over to the door, and held it open. “For the present,” he said, “you may go, but if I were you I would not fail to appear when you are sent for.” Melun took up his hat and stick and laughed lightly. “It suits me very well,” he said, “to come when I am bid, but possibly you may not find me quite so pliant in the future. Good-night!” Going straight up to his room, Westerham slept like a child till about six o'clock. He preferred to do his clear thinking in the early morning. Now he thought long and hard for two hours. He argued the matter out with himself in all its respects, and though he had determined not to take a bold course with Melun on the previous night, he was now convinced that the only way was to take a bold course with Lady Kathleen. He had not seen Dunton among the guests at the reception, but, of course, there could be no doubt that Lady Kathleen was well acquainted with that entirely charming and honest, if somewhat vacuous, young peer. It was therefore with the intention of revealing his identity to Lady Kathleen and explaining the whole position to her that about noon he made his way down Whitehall and rang the queer little bell of No. 10 Downing Street. As he waited on the door-step, however, he was a little disconcerted to observe that the blinds were drawn down, and immediately the door was opened he instinctively knew that the house was, for his purpose at least, empty.