Westerham therefore decided to take a bold course, and he issued a short statement to the effect that the Premier and his daughter had merely left town for a few days, and that there was not the slightest cause for public anxiety.
The public, of course, knew better, for practically every detail of the breaking open of the Cabinet Council Chamber had been passed from mouth to mouth. The episode, indeed, was already the wonder of the age.
Late as was the hour of their return to Downing Street, Westerham decided on immediate action in his search for Lady Kathleen, and summoned help from Scotland Yard. When the inevitable Mr. Rookley presented himself, Westerham, despite the terrible anxiety of the moment, could not restrain a little smile.
Rookley started back as he saw him and his face blanched. Westerham's explanation, though not wholly satisfactory to the detective, was to the point.
“I think it would have been better if you had told me before, Sir Paul,” the detective grumbled.
“Never mind about that,” said Westerham, shortly, “we must get to work.”
And so, though he was intensely weary, Westerham and Rookley, together with Dunton and Mendip, started for Madame Estelle's villa in St. John's Wood. Repeated pulls at the bell produced no response, and so they decided to burst open the garden gate. This they did, only to find the house shuttered and in darkness. There was no time for scruples and, obtaining entrance to the house, they searched the place from ceiling to roof. There was no sign of any life.
“Limehouse!” cried Westerham. “We must try Limehouse!”
“Limehouse?” demanded Rookley. “What do you mean?”