“And there does not seem to be any hope of getting the thing back—no hope of it at all. By George! I wish we were back in the good old days. Then I could put that Melun on the rack. I'd get the secret out of him somehow.
“But he is too slippery. I even made arrangements to have him watched, but he beats our men all the time. He is here to-day and gone to-morrow. He appears and he vanishes—Heaven only knows how.
“And now, to add to our perplexities, we have got this red-haired giant, who seems to be even more unscrupulous than Melun. Certainly he is more bold. To my way of thinking, it was only a bold stroke to win your confidence that he dealt with Bagley as he did.”
“Oh, father!” cried Kathleen, “I cannot believe that.”
“Nonsense, my dear. Do you suppose that a man who is hand in glove with Melun comes across you and Bagley in the Park by accident? Why, it is one chance against a hundred million.”
“But still it is a chance,” urged Kathleen.
“My dear little girl,” said the Premier, gently, while he patted her cheek, “I am afraid that you are of a very trusting disposition, though that has certainly been to the advantage of your poor old father.
“No, no!” he went on. “Depend on it, he was there by arrangement.
“Besides, how otherwise should he know who you were? And you say he suggested that he should drive you back to Downing Street?
“Gad! it almost makes one admire the man to think of his cool cheek. To drive you back to Downing Street indeed!”