For his own part, Westerham drew up a chair and seated himself in front of the box so that his face and figure could be seen by all observers. It was indeed the prospect of this which had so alarmed Melun and had resulted in his taking up so tactless an attitude towards Westerham. Melun was fearful lest some of those present in the theatre should have been numbered among Lord Penshurst's guests of the night before, in which case the freedom which Westerham made of his box might lead to a suspicion that the captain himself was implicated in the raid.
Westerham smiled at the discomfited Melun as though he hugely enjoyed the joke.
“You may well be alarmed,” he said, “and you had better be civil, or I certainly shall not relieve you of my presence, which is apparently obnoxious, and which I fancy you imagine to be a source of danger to you.”
“Mark you, Melun,” he went on, turning his head away from Mme. Estelle so that the woman could not catch his words. “Mark you, there are a great many things about which I want an explanation. When I made my bargain with you I had no idea that I should come to be regarded as a partner in crime with a murderer. Things have gone too far.
“However, for Mme. Estelle's sake, I will not cross-examine you here. I insist, however, that you shall tell me where and when I can find you.”
“And if I decline to say?”
Westerham had foreseen the possibility of this answer, and had made up his mind as to how he should meet it if it came. He saw that he could not extort a statement from Melun there, and was resolved on a different method.
Without a word—and he knew that his silence would cause Melun the deepest anxiety—he rose and left the box.
He waited patiently till the end of the performance and then succeeded in following Melun into the street.
As he had counted on his doing, Melun took a hansom and drove away with Mme. Estelle. Westerham followed.