“Don't let that fiend escape! Oh! if I had the strength I could kill him! I could kill him myself!”
Westerham did his best to soothe him.
“Have no fear,” he said, “that I shall let him slip through my fingers this time. And Heaven judge between us when I do meet him!”
The Premier clutched at his hands in an appealing and childish way.
“Don't spare him! Don't spare him!” he cried.
“There's no fear of that,” said Westerham, and he rose up to go.
When he regained the Prime Minister's study he sent for a map of London, and for some minutes studied it with close attention.
He guessed that a man who was risking so much as the emissary appointed by Melun would take good care to provide himself with sure and certain means of escape. It was doubtful if he would trust to the swiftness of his feet, to the chance of catching a passing omnibus, or to losing himself in the underground. In all likelihood, though he might walk to the actual place of appointment, he would probably drive to some neighbouring spot in a motor-car.
It was upon this very reasonable assumption that Westerham based his plans. The difficulty was, as he knew full well, that a score of little streets and alleys led into St. Paul's churchyard, and any and all of these would be open to Melun's ambassador.
Westerham did his best to place himself in the position of the man whom Melun was sending to the cathedral steps. And arguing the matter out from this point of view, he came to the conclusion that he would drive to Queen Victoria Street or Newgate Street by car, and then proceed to the meeting-place on foot.