She went at once to her father's room, to find the Premier in a scarcely less pitiable frame of mind than she was in herself. The old man was sitting at his desk, his head buried in his hands, though the table was littered with papers requiring urgent attention. Kathleen walked up behind him, and, placing one of her hands on his head, stroked his hair gently. “Poor father!” she said. “Heaven help us, my dear!” said Lord Penshurst, and he stood up and took his daughter in his arms, holding her almost as though he were afraid she might be taken from him. After a little while he became calmer, and began to speak of the dreadful thing which weighed so upon both their spirits. But even while he spoke of it he looked cautiously about, as though he were fearful that other ears might be listening. “So you see, little girl,” he said, “that your very kindly estimate of the red-headed man Robinson was entirely wrong. He didn't look like a scoundrel, but he is one. He is not even a scoundrel of Melun's description. Upon my soul, I think I prefer the blackmailer to the mere thief.” “Do you think,” asked Kathleen, searching her father's face, “that, after all, this is not some of Melun's work?” “Why should it be?” returned her father. “I don't know, I am sure,” said Kathleen, doubtfully, “except that I have a sort of feeling that it is.” “Why?” asked her father. Then, for the first time, Lady Kathleen told him of her meeting with Bagley in Hyde Park. “Oh, my dear! my dear!” cried her father, taking her in his arms again. “How many more sacrifices are you prepared to make for me? If I had not confided in you I do not know what I should have done. I assure you that it is only because I dread the awful consequences that would come if my secret were discovered that has prevented me from taking my life. But, as you know, the shedding of my blood would mean the shedding of blood all over the world. Sometimes I think the dread of it is driving me out of my mind. “And there does not seem to be any hope of getting the thing back—no hope of it at all. By George! I wish we were back in the good old days. Then I could put that Melun on the rack. I'd get the secret out of him somehow. “But he is too slippery. I even made arrangements to have him watched, but he beats our men all the time. He is here to-day and gone to-morrow. He appears and he vanishes—Heaven only knows how. “And now, to add to our perplexities, we have got this red-haired giant, who seems to be even more unscrupulous than Melun. Certainly he is more bold. To my way of thinking, it was only a bold stroke to win your confidence that he dealt with Bagley as he did.” “Oh, father!” cried Kathleen, “I cannot believe that.” “Nonsense, my dear. Do you suppose that a man who is hand in glove with Melun comes across you and Bagley in the Park by accident? Why, it is one chance against a hundred million.” “But still it is a chance,” urged Kathleen.