“Never mind about the versions,” he said; “we met. Without attempting to make an _ex-parte_ statement, I may say that I practically foisted myself upon Melun. I think I may even go so far as to say that I compelled him to reveal himself to me in his most unpleasant light, and also to introduce to me various of his friends. You will, of course, pardon my including you in that number.” Making a bow that was half a mock, Madame smiled—not altogether a pleasant smile. “Les affaires sont les affaires,” said Madame. “Let us be strictly businesslike. Allow me to put the matter as I think you should have put it had you been entirely plain. Do you”—her face grew a little hard again—“blackmail the blackmailer?” “To be perfectly honest,” said Westerham, “I do.” Madame nodded her head up and down several times as though she completely understood. “Now the first of my discoveries,” Westerham continued, “was that Melun had some sort of hold over the Prime Minister, Lord Penshurst.” Madame started. “I also discovered that whatever that hold might be, the secret involved his daughter. Then I think by a perfectly reasonable and logical course of argument I came to the conclusion that the secret, however closely it might be guarded, did not reflect one particular kind of dishonour upon Lord Penshurst.” Madame nodded again. “I presume you mean,” she said—“I am speaking, of course, as a woman of the world—that whatever Lord Penshurst had to be afraid of, he was at least not terrified of any exposure of his morals.” “Quite so,” agreed Westerham. “More than that; both from his reputation and the little I have seen of him I am sure that he is so honourable a man that he is not guarding any secret that might imperil his family's standing. Indeed, I am convinced that whatever he has to keep to himself it does not include any of the ordinary crimes and offences of men.” Again Madame nodded. “Now, Mme. Estelle,” Westerham continued, speaking more sharply than before, “you may or may not be aware that I purchased an insight into Melun's mode of life at the price of a hundred thousand pounds.” Madame's face went first white and then red. “That's the first I have heard of it,” she said, and there was an angry quietude in her voice. “None the less, it is so,” said Westerham. “You know who I am; you know therefore what my resources are. Such a sum is nothing to me. “Now,” and he raised his voice so that it became loud and very clear, “I will double that sum if you will tell me what the secret is.” Lying back on her cushions, Madame stared at him with open mouth; then she sat forward and spoke slowly. “Will you allow me to speak,” she said, “as it were, man to man? Two hundred thousand pounds cannot buy for me that which I desire.” She laughed harshly. Mme. Estelle, as though she were far away, said dreamily, and a little wistfully. “Still, I will try.”