Society. Nor was his search unrewarded, for before long he came across a paragraph which set forth that the Prime Minister and his daughter, the Lady Kathleen Carfax, would in two days' time give a great reception at Lord Penshurst's official residence in Downing Street.

“Now,” said Westerham to himself, “I shall see to what extent Melun speaks the truth. For, unless he is a liar, I will go to that reception myself.”

Therefore he sat down and wrote a note to Melun requesting him to call after lunch the next day.

In due course Melun came, and Westerham proceeded to speak to him on the lines he had mapped out for himself the day before. Much, indeed, to the captain's discomfort, he advanced his theory[Pg 53] that Melun had confederates of an entirely different type from the Bagleys and Mme. Estelle.

[Pg 53]

“In fact,” said the baronet, fixing his unpleasantly cold sea-green gaze on Melun's shifting eyes, “it is practically useless for you to dispute my arguments, and if you have any hope of my fulfilling my part of the bargain you had better introduce me to them without delay.”

Melun laughed. It was a habit of his to laugh when embarrassed.

“Really,” he said with a slightly bantering air, “you are almost too swift for me. Believe me, you are dangerously quick. It is most unwise for a man to plunge suddenly into an acquaintance with the various kinds of undesirable people which it is my misfortune to know.

“They are rather touchy about their privacy, and they are apt actively to resent intrusion. I should leave them alone. Personally, I dislike fuss of every description, but especially the kind of fuss which hurts physically.”

Then he caught a slight sneer on Westerham's mouth and reddened a little. He reddened still more when the baronet said shortly, “I thought so.”

Melun's composure, however, returned to him almost instantly. “Come, come,” he said, “it is foolish to be nasty to your friends. We all have our little failings. I have mine. Yours, it seems, is rashness; mine may be timidity. It is purely a question of constitution.”

“Constitution,” said Westerham, grimly,[Pg 54] “is largely a question of degrees of force. On this occasion I think that force will win. Please understand me distinctly that, however rash you may think me, 

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