The Talisman Ring

Chapter Fourteen

A sound almost like a sob broke from Ludovic. His hand shot out across the table and snatched up the ring. “My ring!” he whispered. “My ring!”

“Well, upon my soul, that’s a devilish cunning device!” said Sir Hugh, taking the quizzing-glass out of Shield’s hand. “You see, Sally? The ring fitted into the circlet at the end of the shaft.”

“Yes, dear,” said Miss Thane. “I see it did. When I think how it has been lying where anyone might have found it I feel quite faint with horror.”

Eustacie was looking critically at it. “Is that a talisman ring?” she enquired. “‘I thought it would be quite different! It is nothing but a gold ring with some figures on it!”

“Careful, Eustacie!” said Sir Tristram, with a slight smile. “You will find that Ludovic regards it as sacrosanct.”

Ludovic raised his eyes from adoration of the ring. “By God, I do! There is nothing I can say to you, Tristram, except that I could kiss your feet for what you have done for me!”

“I beg you won’t, however. I have done very little.”

Miss Thane said: “It has been under our very noses. The audacity of it! How could he dare?”

“Why not?” said Sir Tristram. “Would any of us have suspected it had it not been lost, and then searched for in such a desperate fashion?”

An idea occurred to Miss Thane. She turned her eyes towards her brother, and said in moved tones: “So we owe it all to Hugh! My dear, this becomes too much for me. I shall not easily recover from the shock.”

“And everything—but everything!—we did was quite useless!” said Eustacie, quite disgusted.

“I know,” said Miss Thane, sadly shaking her head. “It does not bear thinking of.”

“I do not know why you should complain,” remarked Sir Tristram. “You have had a great deal of adventure, which is what I understood you both to want.”

“Yes, that is true,” acknowledged Eustacie, “but some of it was not very comfortable. And I must say that I am not at all pleased that it is you who have found the ring, because you did not want to have an adventure, or to do anything romantic. It seems to me very unfair.”

“So it is!” said Miss Thane, much struck by this point of view. “It is quite odious, my love, for who could have been more disagreeable, or more discouraging? Really, it would have been better in some ways had we insisted upon his remaining the villain.”

Sir Tristram smiled a little at this, but in rather an abstracted way, and said: “It’s very well, but we are not yet out of our difficulties. Let me have the ring, Ludovic. It is true that we have found it, but we did not find it in the Beau’s possession. Oh, don’t look so dubious, my dear boy! I shan’t lose it.”

“Ah!” said Miss Thane, nodding wisely. “One has to remember, after all, that you are a collector of such things. I don’t blame him, I dare say it is all a Plot.”

“Sarah, you’re outrageous!” said Ludovic, handing the ring across the table to his cousin. “For God’s sake be careful with it, won’t you, Tristram? What do you mean to do?”

Sir Tristram fitted the ring back into its hiding-place, and closed the circlet with a snap. “For the present I’ll keep this. I think our best course—” He stopped, frowning.

They waited in anxious silence for him to continue, but before he spoke again Nye caught the sound of a coach pulling up in the yard and said apologetically: “Beg pardon, sir, but I’ll have to go. That’ll be the night mail.”

Sir Tristram’s voice arrested him as he reached the door. “Do you mean it’s the London mail, Joe?”

“Ay, that’s the one, sir. I want a word with the guard, if you’ll excuse me.”

Sir Tristram’s chair rasped on the oaken floor as he sprang up. “Then that’s my best course!” he said. “I’ll board it!”

Nye stared at him. “If that’s what you mean to do, you’d best make haste, sir. It don’t take them more than two minutes to change the horses, and they’ll be off the moment that’s done.”

“Go and tell them to wait!” ordered Sir Tristram. “I have but to get my hat and coat.”

“They won’t wait, sir!” expostulated Nye. “They’ve got their time to keep, and you’ve no ticket!”

“Never mind that! Hurry, man!” said Sir Tristram, thrusting him before him out of the room.

“But what are you going to do?” cried Eustacie, running after them.

“I’ve no time to waste in explaining that now!” replied Sir Tristram, already halfway up the stairs.

Miss Thane, following in a more leisurely fashion with Ludovic, said darkly: “I said it was a Plot. It’s my belief he is absconding.” She discovered that her butt was already out of hearing, and added: “There! How provoking! That remark was quite wasted. Who would have supposed that the wretched creature would be taken with such a frenzy?”

Sir Tristram reappeared again at this moment, his coat over his arm, his hat in his hand. As he ran down the stairs, he said: “I hope to return tomorrow if all goes well. For God’s sake take care of yourself, Ludovic!”

He was across the coffee-room and out of the door almost before they could fetch their breath. Miss Thane, blinking, said: “If only we had a horse ready saddled!”

“Why? Isn’t the mail enough for him?” inquired Ludovic.

“If there had been a horse, I am persuaded we should have seen him ride off ventre a terre!” mourned Miss Thane.

“But where is he going?” stammered Eustacie. “He seems to me suddenly to have become entirely mad!”

“He’s going to London,” replied Ludovic. “Don’t ask me why, for I haven’t a notion!”

“Well!” Eustacie turned quite pink with indignation. “It is too bad! This is our adventure, and he has left us without a word, and, in fact, is trying to take it away from us!”

“Men!” said Miss Thane, with a strong shudder.

Sir Hugh came wandering into the coffee-room at this moment, and asked what had become of Shield. When he heard that he had departed suddenly for London, he looked vaguely surprised, and complained that he seemed to be another of these people who spent their time popping in and out of the inn like jack-in-the-boxes. “It’s very unrestful,” he said severely. “No sooner do we get comfortably settled than either someone breaks into the house or one of you flies off the Lord knows where! There’s no peace at all. I shall go to bed.”

Nye came back just then and announced with a reluctant smile that Sir Tristram had succeeded in boarding the coach, in spite of all the guard’s representations to him that such high-handed proceedings were quite out of order. When asked by Ludovic if he knew what Sir Tristram meant to do, he replied in his stolid way: “I do not, sir, but you may depend upon it he’ll do what’s best. All he said to me was, I was to see you safe into your room. Myself, I’m having a truckle bed set up here, and it’ll be a mighty queer thing if anyone gets into the house without I’ll hear them. Not but what it don’t seem to me likely that anyone will try that game tonight. They’ll be waiting up at the Dower House till tomorrow in the hopes that Sam Barker will have found that plaguey ring of yours, sir.”

Miss Thane sighed. “How abominably flat it will seem to have no one breaking in any more! Really, I do not know how I am to support life once all these exciting happenings are at an end.”

Nye favoured her with a grim little smile. “By what I can make out, they ain’t ended yet, ma’am. We’ll do well to keep an eye lifted for trouble as soon as that Beau learns Barker ain’t found his quizzing-glass. I’ll be glad when I see Sir Tristram back, and that’s a fact. Now, Mr Ludovic, if you’re ready, I’ll help you get to bed. You’ll have to go down to the cellar again tomorrow, and the orders are I’m to see you into it before I unbar the doors in the morning. And what’s more, sir,” he added, forestalling Ludovic’s imminent expostulation, “I’ve orders to knock you out if you don’t go willing.”

This ferocious threat was not, however, put into execution. Ludovic descended into the cellar at an early hour on the following morning, and the rest of the party, with the exception of Sir Hugh, who was only interested in his breakfast, prepared themselves to meet whatever peril should lie in store for them. Eustacie, who thought that she had taken far too small a part in the adventure, was feeling somewhat aggrieved, Ludovic having refused without the least hesitation to lend her one of his pistols. “I never lend my pistols,” he said. “Besides, what do you want it for?”

“But to fire, of course!” replied Eustacie impatiently.

“Good God! What at?”

“Why, at anybody who tries to come into the house!” she said, opening her eyes in surprise at his stupidity. “And if you would let Sarah have one too, she could help me. After all, we may find ourselves in great danger, you know.”

“You won’t find yourselves in half such danger as you would if I let you have my pistols,” said Ludovic, with brutal candour.

This unfeeling response sent Eustacie off in a dudgeon to Miss Thane. Here at least she was sure of finding a sympathetic listener. Nor did Miss Thane disappoint her. She professed herself to be quite at a loss to understand the selfishness of men, and when she learned that Eustacie had planned for her also to fire upon possible desperadoes, she said that she could almost wish that she had not been told of the scheme, since it made her feel quite disheartened to think of it falling to the ground.

“Well, I do think we ought to be armed,” said Eustacie wistfully. “It is true that I do not know much about guns, but one has only to point them and pull the trigger, after all.”

“Exactly,” agreed Miss Thane. “I dare say we should have accounted for any number of desperate ruffians. It is wretched indeed! We shall be forced to rely upon our wits.”

But the morning passed quietly, the only excitement being provided by Gregg, who came to the inn with the ostensible object of inquiring whether Nye could let his master have a pipe of burgundy. He left his horse in the yard, and was thus able to exchange a word with Barker, who, with the fear of transportation before him, faithfully obeyed Sir Tristram’s instructions, and said that he had no chance yet to search for the quizzing-glass.

In the afternoon Sir Hugh, following his usual custom, went upstairs to enjoy a peaceful sleep. Miss Thane and Eustacie watched the Brighton mail arrive, but since it did not set Sir Tristram down at the Red Lion, their interest in it swiftly waned. They had begun to question whether they were to experience any adventures whatsoever when, to their amazement, Beau Lavenham’s chaise passed the parlour window, drew up outside the coffee-room door, and set down the Beau himself.

He alighted unhurriedly, took care to remove a speck of dust from his sleeve, and in the calmest way imaginable walked into the inn.

“Well,” said Miss Thane, “I think this passes the bounds of reasonable effrontery! Do you suppose that he has come to pay us a ceremonious visit?”

Apparently this was his purpose, for in a few minutes Nye ushered him into the parlour. He came in with his usual smile, and bowed with all his usual flourish. “Such a happiness to find you still here!” he said. “Your very obedient, ma’am!”

“If you should be needing aught, ma’am, you have only to call,” said Nye, with slow deliberation.

“Oh yes, indeed! Pray do not wait!” said Miss Thane, slipping into her role of empty-headed femininity. “I will certainly call you if I need anything. How delightful it is to see you, Mr Lavenham! Here you find us yawning over our stitchery, quite enchanted to be receiving company. You must know that we have made all our plans for departure, and mean to set forward for London almost immediately. I am so glad to have the opportunity of taking leave of you! So very obliging you were in permitting me to visit your beautiful house! I am for ever talking of it!”

“My house was honoured, ma’am. Do I understand that your brother has at last recovered from his sad indisposition? It must have been an unconscionably bad cold to have kept him in this dull inn for so many days.”

“Yes, indeed, quite the worst he has ever had,” agreed Miss Thane. “But he has not found it dull, I assure you.”

“No?” said the Beau gently.

“Indeed, no! You must understand that he is a great judge of wine. A well-stocked cellar will reconcile him to the hardest lot. It is quite absurd!”

“Ah, yes!” said the Beau. “Nye has a great deal in his cellars, I apprehend—more perhaps than he will admit.”

“That is true,” remarked Eustacie, with considerable relish. “Grandpère was used to say that he would defy anyone to find what Nye preferred to keep hidden.”

“I fear he must have been speaking with a little exaggeration,” said the Beau. “I trust Nye will never find himself compelled to submit to a search being made for his secret cellar. Such things are very well while no one knows of their existence, but once the news of them gets about it becomes a simple matter to discover them.”

Miss Thane, listening to this speech with an air of the most guileless interest, exclaimed: “How odd that you should say that! I must tell you that my brother said at the very outset that he was convinced Nye must possess some hidden store!”

“I felicitate you, ma’am, upon being blessed with a brother of such remarkable perspicacity,” said the Beau in a mellifluous voice. He turned towards his cousin. “My dear Eustacie, I wonder if I may crave the indulgence of a few moments’ private speech with you? Miss Thane will readily understand that between cousins—”

Miss Thane interrupted him at this point, with an affected little cry. “Oh, Mr Lavenham, no, indeed! It is not to be thought of! You must know that I am this dear child’s chaperone—is it not ridiculous?—and such a thing would not do at all!”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, and after a moment, said: “I do not recollect, ma’am, that these scruples weighed with you so heavily when you visited my house not so long since.”

Miss Thane looked distressed, and replied: “It is very true. Your reproach is just, sir. I’m such a sad shatterbrain that I forgot my duties in admiration of your library.”

He raised his brows in polite scepticism. Eustacie said: “I do not have secrets from mademoiselle. Why do you wish to see me alone? Je n’en vois pas la necessité!”

“Well,” said the Beau, “if I may speak without reserve, my dear cousin, I desired to drop a word of warning in your ear.”

She looked him over dispassionately. “Yes? I do not know why I must be warned, but if you wish to warn me, I am perfectly agreeable.”

“Let us say,” amended the Beau, “that I desire you to convey a warning to the person most nearly concerned. You must know that I am aware—have been aware from the outset—that you are concealing—a certain person in this house. I do not need to mention names, I am sure. Now, I wish this person no harm; in the past I think I may say that I have been very much his friend, but it will not be in my power to assist him if once his presence in this inn becomes known. And I fear—I very much fear—that it is known. You have already been a trifle discommoded, I collect, by two Runners from Bow Street. They seem, by all accounts, to have been a singularly stupid couple. But you must remember that all the Runners are not so easily—shall we say, duped?” He paused, but Eustacie, contenting herself with gazing at him blankly, said nothing. He smiled slightly, and continued: “You should consider, dear cousin, what would happen if someone who knows this person well were to go to Bow Street and say: ‘I have proof that his man is even now lying in a hidden cellar at the Red Lion at Hand Cross.’”

“You recount to me a history of the most entertaining,” said Eustacie, with painstaking civility. “I expect you would be very glad to know that Ludovic—I name names, me—had gone abroad.”

“Very glad,” replied the Beau sweetly. “I should be much distressed if he brought any more disgrace on the family by ending his career on the scaffold. And that, my dear Eustacie, is what he will do if ever he falls into the hands of the Law.”

“But I find you inexplicable!” said Eustacie. “I thought you at least believed him to be innocent.”

He shrugged. “Certainly, but his unfortunate flight, coupled with the disappearance of the talisman ring which was at the root of all the trouble, will always make it impossible for him to prove his innocence.” He put the tips of his fingers together, and over them surveyed Eustacie. “It is very disagreeable to be a hunted man, you know. It would be much better to have it given out that one had died—abroad. I am anxious to be of what assistance I can. If I had proof that my cousin Ludovic was no more, I would gladly engage to provide—well, let us say a man who looked like my cousin Ludovic but bore another name—to provide this man, then, with an allowance I believe he would not consider ungenerous.” He stopped and took a pinch of snuff.

“I ask myself,” said Eustacie meditatively, “why you should wish to overwhelm Ludovic with your generosity. It is to me not at all easy to understand.”

“Ah, that is not clever of you, dear cousin,” he replied. “Surely you must perceive the disadvantages of my situation?”

“But yes, very clearly,” said Eustacie, with disconcerting alacrity.

“Precisely,” smiled the Beau. “Of course, were there but the slimmest chance of Ludovic’s being able to prove his innocence, it would be another matter. But there is no such chance, Eustacie, and I should be a very odd sort of a creature if I did not look forward with misgiving to an indefinite number of years spent in waiting beside a vacant throne.”

“A vacant throne?” suddenly said Miss Thane, raising her head from the book she had taken up. “Oh, are you speaking of the murder of the French King? I was never more shocked in my life than when I heard the news of it!”

The Beau paid no heed to her. His eyes still rested on Eustacie; he said pensively: “One may live very comfortably on the Continent, I believe. You, for instance, would like it excessively, I dare say.”

“I? But we do not speak of me!”

“Do we not? Well, I shall not pretend that I am not glad to hear you say so,” he answered. He got up from his chair. “You will think over what I have said, will you not? You might even tell Ludovic.”

Eustacie assumed an expression of doubt. “Yes, but perhaps if he did what you suggest you would not give him any money after all,” she said.

“In that case,” replied the Beau calmly, “he would only have to come to life again to deprive me of title, land, and wealth. One might almost say that he would hold me quite in his power.”

“True, yes, that is very true,” nodded Eustacie. “But I do not know—it is not possible for me to say—”

“My dear cousin, I do not wish you to say anything. No doubt you will discuss the matter with Ludovic and inform me later of your decision. I will take my leave of you now.” He turned and bowed to Miss Thane. “Your servant, ma’am. Do not trouble to accompany me to the door, my dear cousin; I know my way. I have been here before, you know.” He broke off and said: “Ah, that reminds me! I believe that upon the occasion of my last visit I lost my quizzing-glass here. I wonder if it has been found?”

“Your quizzing-glass?” repeated Eustacie. “How came you to lose that, pray?”

“The ribbon was a trifle worn,” he explained. “The glass is of sentimental value to me. May I have it, if you please?”

She shook her head. “You are mistaken. It is certainly not here.”

He sighed. “No? Tax your memory again, cousin. It would be wiser to remember, I think.”

“It is impossible. I do not know where your glass may be,” said Eustacie, with perfect truth.

Miss Thane, quite unable to resist the temptation of taking part in this scene, said: “A quizzing-glass? Oh yes, I know!”

“Indeed, ma’am?” The Beau turned rather quickly. “Enlighten me, I beg of you!”

Miss Thane nodded at Eustacie. “Do you not remember, my love, how Nye found one half hidden beneath a chair only yesterday? Oh no, I believe you were not by at the time! He laid it on the mantelshelf in the coffee-room. I will fetch it for you directly.”

“Do not put yourself to the trouble, ma’am,” said the Beau, breathing a little faster. “I am quite in your debt, and will recover the glass upon my way out.”

“Oh, but it is not the least trouble in the world!” declared Miss Thane, rising, and going to the door. “I can place my hand upon it in a trice!”

“You are too good.” He bowed, and followed her to the coffee-room.

She checked for an instant on the threshold, for the room was not, as she had expected to find it, empty. A powerful-looking man in a blue coat and buckskins was seated on the settle beside the fire, warming his feet and refreshing himself from a mug of ale. He turned his head as Miss Thane came in, and although he did not look at her for more than a couple of seconds, she had an uncomfortable feeling that the look was not quite as casual as it seemed to be. She caught Eustacie’s eye, and found it brimful of warning. Comforting herself with the reflection that even if the stranger were in Beau Lavenham’s pay, there was no fear of either of them finding the quizzing-glass, she tripped forward to the fireplace. “I know just where he put it,” she informed the Beau over her shoulder. “This end it was—no! Well, that is the oddest thing! I could have sworn—Do you reach up your arm, Mr Lavenham: you are taller than I am.”

The Beau, who did not need this encouragement, ran his hand the length of the mantelpiece. “You are mistaken, ma’am,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh. “It is not here!”

“But it must be!” she said. “I am positive it was put there. Someone must have moved it!” An idea seemed to strike her. She said: “I wonder, did your valet take it? He was here this morning, you know, and stayed for quite some time. I could not imagine what he was about! Depend upon it, he must have discovered it, and you will find it awaiting you at the Dower House.”

He had turned pale, and said with his eyes fixed on her face: “My valet? You say my valet was in this room today?”

“Yes, indeed he was,” averred Miss Thane unblushingly. “Of course, I never dreamed the glass was what he was looking for, or I would have shown him at once where it was. All’s well that ends well, however. You may be sure he has it safe.”

Eustacie, lost in admiration of Miss Thane’s tactics, watched the smile vanish completely from the Beau’s face. An expression half of doubt, half of dismay took its place; it was plain that while he suspected Miss Thane of prevaricating, he was unable to banish from his mind as impossible the thought that his valet, guessing that the quizzing-glass held a vital secret, might have come to search for it on his own account. She saw his hand open and close, and his lips straighten to a thin, ugly line, and was observing these signs of mental perturbation with critical interest when she became aware of being addressed by the stranger on the settle.

“Very cold day, ma’am,” he remarked, with the unmistakable air of one whose habit it was to enter into chat with anybody who crossed his path.

Eustacie glanced at him with a certain amount of misgiving. She supposed that the landlord of an inn could hardly refuse to allow a customer to drink his ale in the coffee-room if he wished to, but she could not help feeling that Nye might have contrived on this occasion at least to have lured him into the tap-room and to have kept him there under his own eye. On the other hand, it was, of course, possible that the man was known to Nye. She replied civilly: “Yes, very cold.”

“Bitter wind blowing outside,” pursued the stranger. “Ah well, it’s seasonable, ain’t it, ma’am? We hadn’t ought to complain. Begging your pardon, sir, if I might put another log of wood on the fire—Thank you, sir!”

The Beau, who was standing by the basket containing wood, moved to allow the stranger to approach it.

“That’s the worst of a wood fire,” said the stranger, selecting a suitable log. “They fall away to nothing in less than no time, don’t they, sir? But we’ll have a nice blaze in a minute, you’ll see.” He bent to pick up another log, and said in a surprised tone: “Well! and what might this be, all amongst the wood?” He straightened himself as he spoke, and Miss Thane saw that he was holding the Beau’s quizzing-glass in his hand.

For a moment it seemed to her that she could neither speak nor think. While her eyes remained riveted to the glass her brain whirled. Had not Sir Tristram taken charge of the glass? Could he have been guilty of the unpardonable carelessness of mislaying it? How did it come to be in the woodbasket? And what in heaven’s name was one to do?

She pulled herself together, met Eustacie’s eyes across the room, and saw them as startled as she felt sure her own must be. She became aware of the stranger’s voice, marvelling with amiable fatuity at the queer places things would get to, to be sure, and suddenly realized why Nye had left a stranger alone in the coffee-room, and what his purpose must be. She shot a warning frown at Eustacie, still standing at the foot of the stairs, and said: “Why, there it is! Well, of all the fortunate happenings!”

The Beau held out his hand. It was shaking a little. He said: “Thank you. That is mine.”

The stranger looked rather doubtfully at him. “Yours, is it, sir? Well, if you say so, I’m sure it is so, but maybe I’d best give it to the landlord—not meaning any offence, your Honour, but seeing as it’s a valuable kind of a trinket, and me having found it.”

A fixed smile was on the Beau’s lips. He said: “Quite unnecessary, I assure you. You will perceive that it is of unusual design. I could not mistake it.”

The stranger turned it over in his hand. “Well, of course, sir, if you say so—” he began undecidedly.

“My good fellow,” interrupted the Beau. “You must have seen me look for something upon the mantelshelf a minute ago. Your scruples are quite absurd, believe me. Anyone will tell you that that glass belongs to me. Be good enough to give it to me, if you please.”

“Oh yes, certainly that is Mr Lavenham’s quizzing-glass!” said Miss Thane. “There can be no doubt!”

The stranger advanced, holding the glass out to the Beau. He grasped it, and in that instant a suspicion of the trap into which he had walked seemed to flash before his brain, and he sprang back, glaring at the man before him.

“Then, in the name of the Law I arrest you, Basil Lavenham, for the wilful murder of Matthew John Plunkett!” said the stranger.

Before he had finished speaking the Beau had whipped a pistol from his pocket and levelled it. The smile on his lips had become a ghastly grimace, but it still lingered. He said, quick and low: “Stand where you are! If you move you are a dead man!” and began to back towards the door.

The Bow Street Runner stood still perforce. Miss Thane, standing a little behind the Beau, perceived that the moment for a display of heroism had arrived, and in one swift movement got between the Beau and the door. In the same instant Eustacie shrieked: “Nye! A moi!”

The Beau, keeping his would-be captor covered, reached the door, and Miss Thane, behind him, caught his arm and bore it downwards with all her strength. He was taken unawares, gave a snarl of fury, and wrenching free from her clutch struck at her with his clenched fist. The blow landed on her temple, and Miss Thane subsided in an inanimate heap on the floor.

She became aware of a throbbing pain in her head, of the smell of Hungary Water, and of the feel of a wet cloth across her brow. “Oh dear!” she said faintly. “The quizzing-glass! Did he get away?”

“By no means,” replied a calm voice. “There is nothing to worry you: we have him safely held.”

Miss Thane ventured to open her eyes. Sir Tristram was sitting on the edge of the couch in the parlour on which she had been laid, bathing her forehead. “Oh, it’s you!” said Miss Thane.

“Yes,” said Sir Tristram.

“I knew you must have returned,” murmured Miss Thane.

He replied in his cool way: “If you knew that, what in the world possessed you to try and stop the Beau? He had no hope of escaping. I was outside with a Runner to take him if he broke from Townsend.”

“Well, pray how was I to know that?” demanded Miss Thane.

“I imagine you might have guessed it.”

She closed her eyes again, saying with dignity: “I have the headache.”

He sounded amused. “That is not very surprising, since you were hit on the head.”

A rustle of skirts heralded Eustacie’s approach. Miss Thane opened her eyes again and smiled. “Oh, you are better!” said Eustacie. “Ma pauvre, I thought he had killed you! And I must tell you that he wrenched open the door and stepped backwards right into Tristram’s arms! It was of all things the most exciting! And, do you know, he tried to throw the quizzing-glass into the fire, which was entirely stupid, because that made it quite certain that he knew where the ring was hid. I do think that this has been the most delightful adventure!”

“So it has,” agreed Miss Thane. “Positively épatant! What have you done with the Beau, and where is Ludovic?”

“Oh, the Runners took Basil away in a chaise, and as for Ludovic, Nye has gone to let him out of the cellar.”

Miss Thane sighed. “Well, I suppose it is all for the best, but you know I cannot help feeling disappointed. I had quite made up my mind to it that Sir Tristram had absconded with the talisman ring, and I had thought of several famous schemes for recovering it. I never knew anyone so provoking!”

“Yes,” agreed Eustacie. “I must say, that is true. He is very provoking, but one must be just, enfin, and own that he has been very clever and useful.”

Miss Thane turned her head to look up at Sir Tristram. “I wish you will tell me what you did,” she said. “You were not on the Brighton mail, were you? Is it possible that you rode here ventre a terre?”

“No,” replied Sir Tristram. “I came post.”

Miss Thane seemed to abandon interest in his proceedings.

“Bringing with me,” continued Sir Tristram, “a couple of Bow Street Runners. When we arrived here I learned from Nye that by some stroke of good fortune the Beau was actually in the house. I had been wondering how we were to prevail upon him to own the quizzing-glass, and the difficulties of luring him to this place without letting him get wind of a trap seemed to me to be quite considerable. When we heard that he was already here, it was easy to set our trap. The only thing I feared was that one or other of you might put him on his guard by showing surprise at seeing the quizzing-glass. You are to be congratulated on concealing your emotions so well.”

“At first,” confessed Eustacie, “I was entirely bouleversée, and quite unable to speak. Then Sarah frowned at me, and I thought it would be better to remain silent. I thought the Runner was one of Basil’s men, did not you, Sarah?”

“Yes, I did at first,” replied Miss Thane. “But when he picked up the glass I knew Sir Tristram must be at the back of it. Is Ludovic safe now? Will he be able to take his place in the world again?”

“Yes, there can be no doubt of that. Basil lost his head, and his attempt to dispose of the ring was a complete betrayal. How do you feel, Miss Thane?”

“Very uneasy,” she replied. “I believe there is a lump on my forehead.”

“It is already much less pronounced than it was,” said Sir Tristram consolingly.

Miss Thane regarded him with misgiving. “Tell me at once, have I a black eye?” she said.

“No, not yet.”

She gave a shriek. “Not yet? Do you mean that I shall have one?”

“I should think it highly probable,” he said, a laugh in his voice.

“Bring me the hartshorn!” begged Miss Thane in failing accents, and once more closing her eyes.

“Certainly,” said Sir Tristram. “Eustacie, fetch the hartshorn.”

“She does not really want it, you know,” explained Eustacie. “She is jesting.”

“Nevertheless, fetch it,” said Sir Tristram.

“Eh bien!” Eustacie shrugged, and went away to look for it.

Miss Thane opened her eyes again, and looked at Sir Tristram with even more misgiving than before.

“Sarah,” said Sir Tristram, “I have a very important question to put to you. How many seasons have you spent at Almack’s?”

Miss Thane gazed at him with an expression of outrage in her face, and said: “Tristram, are you daring—actually daring—to choose this out of all other moments to make me an offer?”

“Yes,” replied Sir Tristram. “I am. Why not?”

Miss Thane sat up. “Have you no sense of romance?” she demanded. “I won’t—no, I won’t be proposed to with my hair falling down my back, a bandage round my head, and very likely a black eye as well! It is quite monstrous of you!”

He smiled. “Indeed, you will. You look delightfully. Will you marry me?”

“I have wronged you,” said Miss Thane, much moved. “If you think I look delightfully at this present, you must be a great deal more romantic than I had supposed.”

“It is a long time now since I have been able to look at you without thinking how very beautiful you are,” said Sir Tristram simply.

“Oh!” said Miss Thane, blushing, “you forget yourself! Do, pray, recollect that you do not look for romance in marriage! Remember your previous disillusionment! This will never do!”

“I see that I shall not easily be allowed to forget that nonsense,” said Sir Tristram, taking her in his arms. “Now be serious for one moment, Sarah! Will you marry me?”

“To be honest with you,” said Miss Thane, with the utmost gravity, “I have been meaning to marry you these ten days and more!”

A moment later Eustacie came into the room with Sir Hugh at her heels. She checked on the threshold in round-eyed amazement, but Sir Hugh merely said: “Oh, so you’re back, are you?”

“Yes,” said Shield, releasing Miss Thane. “Have I your permission to pay my addresses to your sister?”

“Oh, certainly, my dear fellow, by all means! Not that it’s anything to do with me, you know. She’s her own mistress now. What have you done to your head, Sally?”

“Ludovic’s wicked cousin knocked me down,” explained Miss Thane. “I have had a very exciting afternoon, throwing myself into the breach, and being stunned, and then having an offer of marriage made to me.”

“I thought there was a devilish amount of noise going on downstairs,” remarked Sir Hugh. “It’s time we finished with this cousin of Ludovic’s. I’ll bring an action against him for assaulting you.”

“An excellent notion, my dear, but the Crown is already bringing an action against him for murdering Sir Matthew Plunkett.”

“Never heard of him,” said Sir Hugh. “Not that I’m against it, mind you. A fellow who creeps about in a demmed loo-mask—”

“Sir Matthew Plunkett,” said Miss Thane patiently, “is the man Ludovic was accused of murdering two years ago. You must know that Ludovic will now be able to stop living in the cellar, and take up his rightful position at Lavenham Court.”

“Well, I must say I’m glad to hear that,” said Sir Hugh. “It never seemed to me healthy for him to be spending all his time in the cellar. I think if it’s true that he’s going to come into his inheritance, I’ll go and speak to him about that horse before it slips my memory.”

He left the room as he spoke. Eustacie, finding her tongue, blurted out: “But, Sarah, do you want to marry Tristram?”

Miss Thane’s eyes twinkled. “My love, when a female reaches my advanced years, she cannot be picking and choosing, you know. She must be content with the first respectable offer she receives.”

“Oh, now I know that you are laughing at me!” Eustacie said. “But I do not understand it. I find it quite extraordinary!”

“The truth is,” said Miss Thane confidentially, “that I cannot any longer bear his odious way of calling me ma’am. There was no other means of putting an end to it.”

“But, Sarah, consider! You are romantic, and he is not romantic at all!”

“I know,” replied Miss Thane, “but I assure you I mean to come to an understanding with him before the knot is tied ... Either I have his solemn promise to ride ventre à terre to my deathbed or there will be no marriage!”

“It shall be included in the marriage vow,” said Sir Tristram.

Eustacie, looking from one to the other, made a discovery. “Mon Dieu, it is not a mariage de convenance at all! You are in love, enfin!” she exclaimed.