“You may have noticed,” he continued, “that one of the men most in evidence at Downing Street last night was the Premier's private secretary, the Hon. Claude Hilden.” “Yes,” said Westerham, eagerly, “what of him?” “He burgled your rooms,” said Melun, calmly. “What!” Westerham jumped out of his chair and stood over Melun. “What do you mean? Why, it is impossible. If he did that it must have been by Lord Penshurst's orders, and what, in the name of Heaven, could they have expected to find here?” “Exactly what Hilden came to find—what he did find, and what he took away with him.” “In the name of Heaven, what?” asked Westerham, to whom things were becoming a little too complicated for him to follow. “What Hilden found,” said Melun, slowly and precisely, “were Lady Kathleen's diamonds.” “Lady Kathleen's diamonds!” “Yes,” answered Melun, smiling as though with intense relish of an infinitely fine jest, “Lady Kathleen's diamonds. “They were missed shortly after your departure, and you were at once suspected of being the author of the theft. And therefore Lord Penshurst, knowing that Bagley had made one attempt before, and that I was connected with Bagley, at first suspected me. “In fact, at about two in the morning, Hilden came around to my rooms with the Premier. They roused me from sleep and taxed me with the theft, Lord Penshurst threatening that if I did not give them up he would certainly not accede to the other terms which I am asking of him. “I told him quite frankly that I did not take them but that I strongly suspected you.” “You scoundrel!” cried Westerham. In his sudden rage he would have seized Melun by the throat; but Melun, whom Westerham had never seen more calm and self-possessed, pushed his hand aside and said, “Softly, softly! you had better hear me out.” “Go on!” “I told them,” continued Melun, “that it would be folly to rouse you as they had aroused me. In fact, I told them that you were a strong man armed—that any attack made on you or your rooms in the small hours would inevitably lead to one of them being damaged, which would only result in awkward police-court proceedings and painful revelations.” “You scoundrel! You scoundrel!” cried Westerham again. “Wait a minute, my dear fellow; hear me out,” pleaded Melun. “You may consider that you have played the game with me, but that is not my own view of things. It was necessary to teach you a lesson. In your nice, strong, masterful way you were under the impression that you had to deal with a pack of cowards and curs.” “So I have,” said Westerham, grimly. “Perhaps; but one of them is not quite so impotent as you judged him, and if you reflect a moment you will see, at any rate, that you are at present in a rather awkward predicament. However, to get on with my tale. “I had you watched this morning, and as soon as you left your rooms I slipped in here with the diamonds.” “But you said you had not taken them,” said Westerham.