“So I did, but I took them none the less. I got rid of your man for a minute on some pretext, and just jammed them into the pocket of the coat you had worn the night before. Then I at once communicated with Downing Street. I could not tell them where the diamonds actually were, for that would have given me away, but I knew that Lord Penshurst and Hilden were sufficiently desperate to turn your place upside down to find them. They did find them, for Hilden telephoned the fact to me half an hour before you sent for me.” “Good Lord!” said Westerham, and held up his hand for silence. He wished to think. Matters were becoming more and more difficult to understand. Lord Penshurst went in dread of Melun—so great a dread that he even had to confide in his nephew and his private secretary when Melun pressed him too hard. It was evident, too, that Melun's grip of the Premier must be of the most remorseless kind, or such a man as Lord Penshurst would never stoop to countenance such deeds on Melun's part. This was bad enough, but the whole affair assumed a far more sinister aspect when Westerham reflected that Lady Kathleen must of necessity be acquainted with Lord Penshurst's expedition in the small hours, and of her cousin's burglarious exploits in the afternoon. “No wonder,” groaned Westerham to himself, “she did not trust me. No wonder! No wonder! Oh, the shame of it! This is the hardest part of all—to be suspected, and to be suspected of such a mean and dastardly thing as this.” “Good Heavens!” he cried aloud, “but for the fact that I should be hung for it, which would unfortunately spoil my chances in certain directions, I think I could shoot you on the spot.” “Just so,” said Melun, “but I feel safe in the knowledge that you won't.” “I'll tell you what I will do,” said Westerham, “and I have every justification for doing it—I will go back on my agreement with you here and now. In half an hour I will be in Downing Street and expose the whole thing. Yes, by Heavens! And if Lord Penshurst won't move in the matter himself, then I will see to it that you are prosecuted.” “No, you won't,” said Melun. “The question really involved is a matter of many men's lives, and one man's life, even yours, will not stand in the way of this secret being kept.” “Lord Penshurst is no murderer, even though you may be,” cried Westerham, indignantly. “Perhaps not, my dear sir, perhaps not; but, at the same time, the situation is such that he cannot possible prosecute.” “What do you mean?” thundered Westerham, again laying his hand roughly on Melun's shoulder. “Pardon me,” Melun answered, shaking himself free, “but that is my business—and Lord Penshurst's business.” * * * * * Poor little Lady Kathleen sobbed till she could sob no more. Then she lifted her head wearily, mopped her swollen eyes, and, gathering herself together, walked slowly back to the Hall.