CHAPTER XXIII
A GRISLY THREAT
Westerham had listened to Lord Penshurst's long recital with greatattention. From time to time he raised his eyebrows, but for the resthe gave no sign of astonishment.
As the Premier concluded Westerham rose and held out his hand.
"We have not much time before us, Lord Penshurst," he said, "but Ithink I can promise you that you shall have the papers back before thethree days are out.
"Meantime," he continued, "let us get back to Downing Street at once,and in spite of the sensation that your continued disappearance willcause, I think you had better not let it be known that you are back atyour official residence. To do that would be to allow Melun to supposethat I had failed in my purpose, and if he thinks that--then we shallfail indeed."
The return to Downing Street was made in Lowther's car, and the Premierentered No. 10 by the back door. There they were met by the news ofLady Kathleen's disappearance, and the aged and much-shaken Premier wasutterly prostrated with grief.
The situation, of course, was not only painful, but dangerous. The newsof the disappearance of the Prime Minister had created a profoundsensation, not only in England, but abroad, and the cables all over theworld were humming with the news of the astounding event.
Downing Street had at once been cleared of the public, but, seekingto allay alarm as far as possible, those in authority had permittedthe representatives of various newspapers to wait about the house fortidings. As it was close on midnight and the newspapers were nearingthe approach of the next day's issue, the reporters were clamouring forsome word.
Westerham therefore decided to take a bold course, and he issued ashort statement to the effect that the Premier and his daughter hadmerely left town for a few days, and that there was not the slightestcause for public anxiety.
The public, of course, knew better, for practically every detail of thebreaking open of the Cabinet Council Chamber had been passed from mouthto mouth. The episode, indeed, was already the wonder of the age.
Late as was the hour of their return to Downing Street, Westerhamdecided on immediate action in his search for Lady Kathleen, andsummoned help from Scotland Yard. When the inevitable Mr. Rookleypresented himself, Westerham, despite the terrible anxiety of themoment, could not restrain a little smile.
Rookley started back as he saw him and his face blanched. Westerham'sexplanation, though not wholly satisfactory to the detective, was tothe point.
"I think it would have been better if you had told me before, SirPaul," 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, togetherwith Dunton and Mendip, started for Madame Estelle's villa in St.John's Wood. Repeated pulls at the bell produced no response, and sothey decided to burst open the garden gate. This they did, only to findthe house shuttered and in darkness. There was no time for scruplesand, obtaining entrance to the house, they searched the place fromceiling to roof. There was no sign of any life.
"Limehouse!" cried Westerham. "We must try Limehouse!"
"Limehouse?" demanded Rookley. "What do you mean?"
In a few words Westerham gave Rookley the history of the crime club andhis connection with it.
"Really, Sir Paul," grumbled Rookley, "I think we had better engageyour services at the Yard; you seem to know a good deal more aboutLondon than we do."
"I am afraid I do," said Westerham, bitterly.
They started for Limehouse, but on the way Westerham came to theconclusion that they would be too late to serve any purpose. It wasthree o'clock, and by this time the place would be closed.
Nothing remained, therefore, but to return to Downing Street and seeka few hours' rest. Westerham, fully dressed, flung himself on his bed,but could not sleep.
At nine o'clock he went to visit the Premier in his room, and wasshocked to see how aged and white and shaky Lord Penshurst looked.
Westerham cheered him as best he could, and then, summoning Rookley,set out to look for Bagley, the smug banker of Herne Hill.
They brought Bagley a prisoner back to Downing Street, but in spite ofevery inducement and every threat, he declared that he knew nothingwhatsoever of the whereabouts of Melun.
Half maddened with terror as to Kathleen's fate, Westerham next turnedhis search in the direction of the gaming house. But Melun had coveredhis tracks well. The house was as silent and devoid of any clue as hadbeen the villa in St. John's Wood. There was nothing to do but waittill night and perfect the arrangements for the raid on Limehouse.
The arrangements which Rookley made were complete, and worked smoothly.So overwhelming was the force of constables that surrounded the housethat resistance on the part of the members of the crime club wasrendered quite impossible.
In the little room in the front of the house Westerham established aspecies of impromptu police-court. One by one the members of the clubwere brought in to him, and one by one they satisfied him that they hadno knowledge of Melun's whereabouts.
Still, Westerham had them safely kept under lock and key. It wasnoon when this curious inquisition was over, and then he immediatelyreturned to Downing Street and sought the Premier's room.
As Westerham entered he looked up with a smile which he fondlyimagined was cheerful. His words were gloomy enough, and to Westerhamseemed to have a certain amount of reproach in them.
"Do you realise," he said, "that we have practically only twenty-fourhours left in which to find Lady Kathleen and to recover the papers?"
Westerham straightened himself up and looked squarely at the Premier.
"The time is short," he said quietly, "but I have no fear that we shallnot succeed.
"You must remember," he went on, "that up to the present it is we whohave made all the efforts. What is Melun doing? It is very strange thathe should have remained quiet so long. It is my opinion that he has putoff communication until the last possible moment in order to make hisclaims all the more effective."
"Do you really think that is so?" cried Lord Penshurst eagerly. "For mypart, I was beginning to fear that, despairing of being able to moveus, he had crossed to Germany in hopes of making terms there."
Westerham shook his head in dissent at this view of the question,though, as a matter of fact, he was growing terribly anxious himselflest Melun should after all have transferred his efforts to Prussia.
"No, no!" he said to the Premier, "I am perfectly certain that he willturn up just in the nick of time. Otherwise, why should he hold LadyKathleen as hostage for so long? You may, I think, rest assured that hewould not still be detaining her if he had abandoned all hope of beingable to reduce us to surrender."
The afternoon wore painfully away, and for the first time Westerhamlearned how time can drag. Up to the point at which he found himselfcompletely foiled in his search for Lady Kathleen he had scarcelycounted the hours or even the days. Incident had been crowded onincident, and action upon action.
But now that he found himself faced with the necessity of waiting forthe slightest sign that could send him on the trail again, he had tomeet and endure the greatest trial that he had ever known.
It was such a helpless and almost hopeless position. Still it wasnot without some hope, and hope helped considerably to mitigate hissufferings between the hours of noon and three o'clock.
And then, just as he had predicted--just as he had calculated it mustcome to pass--the expected message came. It came in the shape of atelegram addressed to the Premier, which read as follows:
"If you accept my terms, wire, not later than four o'clock, to Smith-Brown-Smith, care of Poste Restante, St Martin's-le-Grand. This is final.--M."
The receipt of this wire threw the Premier into a state of greatagitation, and he was for answering it at once.
"The offer must be refused finally," he cried. "Don't you see, SirPaul, that, after all that's been said and done, I cannot possiblyaccept it? It is not in my pow
er to do so, and there appears to be noway out of the difficulty.
"Surely," he went on in a wailing voice, "no man was ever in worsestraits. It is a question of my daughter or Armageddon!"
Westerham restrained him, pointing out that in such a matter as this ananswer could not be made on the spur of the moment. It was a matter, heurged, that required considerable thought.
Quietly and concisely he constructed in his own mind a theory whichaccounted for the despatch of the telegram, and, as he thought it over,he became convinced that, in spite of its bold statement, the telegramwas unreliable. He became certain that the offer which was made themwas by no means final.
He said as much to the Prime Minister, and explained his reasons.
"It is ridiculous to suppose," he argued, "that Melun is such a fool asto think that we shall agree to his terms in this way.
"In the first place, we have no assurance that Lady Kathleen is to berestored to us even for a time, and in the second place, Melun is notthe type of man to take anything on trust. Whatever risks he may run inregard to Lady Kathleen he would certainly not leave the handing overof the money to chance.
"No! Let us by all means send a reply to the address he gives, butinstead of accepting or not accepting his terms let us word it inthis way: 'Cannot accept any terms by wire. Make appointment atwhich matters can be discussed. Will guarantee your immunity fromdisagreeable consequences.'"
The Premier clutched feverishly at this suggestion. "Yes, yes!" hecried. "I see now that it is the better way. Let's send the telegramat once."
So the telegram was despatched, and Westerham and the Premier sat downto wait again.
Lord Penshurst had suggested that the post-office should be watchedin order that Smith-Brown-Smith or his messenger might be watched andfollowed home.
But Westerham argued against such a course, pointing out that in broaddaylight it would be practically impossible for even the most astute offollowers to avoid the notice of the pursued.
"Believe me," he urged, "that such a step would be most unwise, and atthe best we should only succeed in arousing Melun's suspicions. And ifhe thought we intended to try to catch him tripping, it would merelydrive him to extremes. Remember that we have to consider not only LadyKathleen's safety, but the guarding of the secret. We must not pushMelun to the point of throwing him into the arms of Germany."
Somewhat against his will, the Premier finally gave in to thisargument. For the next two hours he sat with Westerham alert, anxious,and watchful.
Towards four o'clock the answer to the wire came, but in a form sounlooked for and so terrible that even Westerham was for a timeunnerved.
It came not in the shape of a telegram, but in the form of a smallsquare cardboard box, neatly wrapped in brown paper and addressed tothe Prime Minister.
It was brought by a District Messenger boy, who, in response toinquiries whence the package came, could only say that it had beenhanded in at the Oxford Street office by a gentleman of distinctlyforeign appearance.
Though the parcel was addressed to Lord Penshurst, Westerham took itfrom the attendant and with his own hands laid it carefully and softlydown on the Premier's table.
For a moment Westerham looked reflectively at the Prime Minister. "Iwonder," he said slowly, "if this parcel comes from Melun?"
Lord Penshurst was all eagerness. "Let's open it at once and see," hesaid.
But Westerham pushed the Prime Minister's hands away from the package.
"Leave it alone," he said, "we don't know what it may contain."
Lord Penshurst glanced at him sharply. "Good Heavens!" he cried, "youdon't mean to tell me that you think Melun would dare to send me a bombor something of that sort?"
"One never knows," said Westerham, thoughtfully. "I think we had bettersend for Rookley."
Rookley came and surveyed the mysterious package with a suspiciousgaze. He picked it up gently, and then almost smiled as he laid it downagain.
"I don't think you need fear its containing anything in the nature ofan explosive," he said; "certainly not an infernal machine. It is muchtoo light."
Westerham nodded, and without a word drew a knife from his pocket andcut the string. Unfolding the paper, he laid bare a brown cardboard box.
Both the Premier and Rookley were leaning eagerly over Westerham'sshoulders as he raised the lid.
Then the three men cried out together and stood rigid as though frozenwith horror.
Lord Penshurst gave a second cry, and reeling backwards would havefallen had not Westerham caught him in his arms.
For lying on the top of a little pile of shavings was a human ear. Itwas the small, round ear of a woman, and against the blood-stained lobeglittered a single diamond.
"Oh, God!" cried the Premier, turning away his ashen face. "It's mydaughter's!"
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