“Why should I go in search of Lord Dunton? If you are not a liar, send Lord Dunton to me. Not that it would help matters, for if you were fifty times Sir Paul Westerham you could not assist me, nor, indeed, would I ask your assistance. But as I fully expect that you know as much about my troubles as I do myself, it would in any case be waste of breath to mention them; and certainly I am not going to mention anything that will give you and Melun a stronger hold of me than you have already.”
“But I tell you,” cried Westerham, “that I have nothing to do with Melun's schemes. Nothing at all!”
“That, of course,” said Lord Penshurst, drily, “will presently be proved by your friend Lord Dunton. In the meantime I warn you and your accomplice Melun that you are rapidly driving me to desperation. I admit that. I tell it to you to impress on you the necessity of not going too far. It is rather unfortunate that the Prime Minister of England should have to liken himself to a worm, but nevertheless I may mention that even a worm will turn.”
This was exasperating, and Westerham found it hard to keep cool.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh, “I am sorry you think so badly of me, and I will do my best to open your eyes as to the real truth of matters. As, however, I cannot do that to-night, I will ask you to allow me to withdraw.”
“I have no objection,” said the Premier, “but before you go perhaps I may offer you some hospitality. I do not wish to be so ungrateful and ungracious as to deny that I owe you some thanks for to-night's work.”
“I am much obliged,” answered Westerham, “but I would rather be excused the humiliation of having to accept hospitality from the hands of a man who does me so much injustice. Good-night.”
He passed out of the room, and the Premier let him go without a word.
In the hall the hosts of departing guests eyed him with curiosity and some anxiety.
Lady Kathleen was standing at the foot of the staircase, and, to their surprise, she stepped forward and held out her hand.