In his excitement he would indeed have leapt from his chair, but Westerham gave him a little push in the chest which sat him down again.
“Not so fast,” he said, “you are here to listen to what I have to say.
“You tell me,” he continued, after a slight pause, “that what you said was true. In that case I demand as part of our bargain that you should take me to Lord Penshurst's to-morrow night.”
Melun became livid. “I will never do it,” he cried.
“You will not?” inquired Westerham with a little laugh. “Surely it was part of our agreement that you should introduce me to all your friends. If you fail to keep that agreement, then I shall fail to keep mine; and I fancy that some of the authorities will be extremely interested in what I shall be able to tell them.”
Melun looked helplessly and almost pleadingly at Westerham. “But what you ask now,” he complained, “is quite impossible.”
“Why?”
Melun mumbled, and Westerham's quick mind instinctively found the right reason for the captain's distress. He debated whether he should mention the Hyde Park affair of the night before. Had Bagley told him? He was doubtful. And if Bagley had not told then the revelation might be awkward. He had no wish to drive Melun so hard that he would turn and become obstinately intractable.
Moreover, if he said anything then he would certainly never discover from Melun what hold he had upon Lady Kathleen and her father. It would be better, he reflected, to smooth matters over and let events take their own course. In following his method, he felt assured the opportunity of fathoming the mystery must inevitably come to him.
So when he spoke next to Melun it was a little less curtly. “You will hardly deny,” he said, “that your presence in Lord Penshurst's house must be unwelcome. Do you hesitate to take me there because you think that in so doing I might possibly be tarred with the same brush as yourself?”