The Prime Minister's jaw opened and closed spasmodically, so that his white beard wagged upon his breast. He made no answer.
Silently the other ministers drew aside into two groups, leaving Westerham and the Premier facing each other in the centre of the room.
With an effort, Lord Penshurst got the better of his agitated nerves and rapped out a sharp “What do you want?”
“Lord Penshurst,” said Westerham, calmly, “you know who I am. You know on what mission I am here. If you refuse to come round the table to speak to me instantly and speak to me alone I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.”
The Premier, without a word and with trailing steps began to make the circuit of the long table. As he approached, Westerham drew back so that now he was at the entrance to the council chamber. He beckoned Lord Penshurst still nearer.
When the Premier was quite close to him he stooped and whispered into his ear so that none of the other ministers could by any chance catch his words.
“If you want to save Lady Kathleen and yourself, you must come with me at once.”
Lord Penshurst said, “It's impossible!”
“Don't argue,” urged Westerham, almost roughly. “I regret to treat you with so much disrespect, but the crisis for which you have been waiting has now come. If you lose, you know what it will mean. But you need not lose if you will follow me now.”
During this conversation the startled ministers had drawn together, and there was considerable outcry as Lord Penshurst turned to look at them with a white face.