Slowly and painfully Melun pulled himself together. The easy confidence which had marked his manner and his talk a few moments before was now utterly gone. He was a broken, almost a cringing, man; and Westerham realised that Lord Penshurst could not be setting any fictitious value on the stolen papers.
These papers could involve no mere matter of sentiment or personal honour or pride. Some colossal undertaking must be at stake.
It was also obvious to Westerham that if the papers fell into strange hands the consequences must be terrible for all concerned. For the anxiety and fear on Melun's face were greater than the anxiety and fear of a man who hazards all in a great stake and thinks he has lost.
Presently Melun got unsteadily out of his chair and came round the table to Westerham.
“Stand away there!” he said to the two men who were guarding the baronet. “Stand away there!”
The men fell back, and Melun, coming close up to Westerham, whispered in his ear: “What do you mean that ‘they are not where they were’? Do you mean the papers?”
Westerham nodded.
“Where are they?” Melun whispered again.
“I decline to say,” said Westerham.
He might well decline, for he had not the least idea.