“Understand,” he said in a low voice, “that if you attempt to cry out you will be strangled.”
Patmore made a choking noise to indicate that he understood, and the car went on at a great pace through Regent Street across Piccadilly, and so reached Whitehall.
Westerham had decided that, apart from the necessity of giving Lord Penshurst the good news, it would be better to take the Premier with them to the farm in Kent at which Westerham had learned Kathleen was imprisoned.
It was close on midnight when Lowther brought the car to a standstill in Downing Street. Mendip, who had abandoned his obviously futile watching in Queen Victoria Street, had returned some time before, and now rushed out to meet them.
“He's inside,” said Lowther, jerking his head back, and Mendip thrust his head through the window peering into the gloom in search of Westerham.
“It is all right,” said Westerham, quietly. “Don't rouse anybody, but get Lord Penshurst out here at once. I have got a man in here with me and my hands are full.”
He gave Patmore's back a by no means tender squeeze as a further indication that he had no intention of relinquishing his grip.
Mendip ran inside, and finding the Premier, brought him to the car.
“Well,” he said eagerly, “have you news at last?”
“Yes,” answered Westerham. “I have discovered Lady Kathleen's whereabouts, and I think we shall be just in time. But we must start at once, and you had better come with us. Mendip, get Lord Penshurst a hat.”