The Talisman Ring

Chapter Four

The landlord took an involuntary step backward.

“Miss, have you gone mad?”

“No!” sobbed Eustacie.

He looked incredulously out into the moonlight, but when he saw the sagging figure on Rufus’s back he gave an exclamation of horror, thrust his lantern into Eustacie’s hand, and strode out. He was a big man, with mighty muscles, and he lifted Ludovic down from the saddle with surprising ease, and carried him into the inn, and lowered him on to a wooden settle by the fireplace. “My God, what’s come to him? What’s he doing here?” he demanded under his breath.

“An Exciseman shot him. Oh, do you think he will die?”

“Die! No! But if he’s found here—!” He broke off. “I must get that horse stabled and out of sight. Stay you here, miss, and don’t touch him! Lordy, lordy, this is a pretty kettle of fish!” He took a taper from the high mantelpiece, kindled it at the lantern’s flame, and gave it to Eustacie. “Do you light them candles, miss, and keep as quiet as you can! I’ve people putting up in the house.” He took up the lantern as he spoke and went out of the inn, softly closing the door behind him.

A branch of half-burned candles was standing on the table. Eustacie lit them, and turned to look fearfully down at her cousin.

He was lying with one arm hanging over the edge of the settle, and his face alarmingly pale. Not knowing what to do for him, she sank down on her knees beside him and lifted his dangling hand, and held it between her own. For the first time she was able to see him clearly; she thought that had she met him in daylight she must have known him for a Lavenham, for here was Sylvester’s hawk-nose and humorous mouth, softened indeed by youth but unmistakable. He was lean and long-limbed, taller than Sylvester had been, but with the same slender hands and arched feet, and the same cleft in his wilful chin.

He seemed to Eustacie scarcely to breathe; she laid his arm across his chest and loosened the handkerchief about his neck. “Oh, please, Cousin Ludovic, don’t die!” she begged.

She heard a slight movement on the stairs behind her, and, turning her head, beheld a tall woman in a dressing-gown standing on the top step with a candle in her hand, looking down at her. She sprang up and stood as though defending the unconscious Ludovic, staring up at the newcomer in a challenging way.

The lady with the candle said with a twinkle in her grey eyes: “Don’t be alarmed! I’m no ghost, I assure you. You woke me with your ring at the bell, and because I’m of a prying disposition, I got up to see what in the world was going forward.” She came down the stairs as she spoke, and saw Ludovic. Her eyebrows went up, but she said placidly:

“I see I’ve thrust myself into an adventure. Is he badly hurt?”

“I think he’s dying,” answered Eustacie tragically. “He has bled, and bled, and bled!”

The lady put down her candle and came to the settle. “That sounds very bad, certainly, but perhaps it is not desperate after all,” she said. “Shall we see where he is hurt?”

“Nye said I was not to touch him,” replied Eustacie doubtfully.

“Oh, he’s a friend of Nye’s, is he?” said the lady.

“No—at least, yes, in a way he is. He is my cousin, but you must not ask me anything about him, and you must not tell anyone that you have ever seen him!”

“Very well, I won’t,” said the lady imperturbably.

At that moment the landlord came into the coffee-room from the back of the house, followed by a little man with a wizened leathery face and thin legs. When he saw the tall woman, Nye looked very much discomfited, and said in his deep, rough voice: “I beg your pardon, ma’am: you’ve been disturbed. It’s nothing—naught but a lad I know who’s been getting into trouble through a bit of poaching.”

“Of course, he would be poaching in the middle of February,” agreed the lady. “You had better get him to bed and take a look at his hurt.”

“It’s what I’m going to do, ma’am,” returned Nye in a grim voice. “Take his legs, Clem!”

Eustacie watched the two men carefully lift her cousin from the settle and begin to carry him upstairs, and turned her attention to the tall woman, who was regarding her with a kind of amused interest. “I dare say it seems very odd to you,” she said austerely, “but you should not have come downstairs.”

“I know,” apologized the lady, “but pray don’t tell me to go to bed again, for I couldn’t sleep a wink with an adventure going on under my very nose! Let me present myself to you: I’m one Sarah Thane, a creature of no importance at all, travelling to London with my brother, whom you may hear snoring upstairs.”

“Oh!” said Eustacie. “Of course, if you quite understand that this is a very secret affair—”

“Oh, I do!” said Miss Thane earnestly.

“But I must warn you that there is a great deal of danger.”

“Nothing could be better!” declared Miss Thane. “You must know that I have hitherto led the most humdrum existence.”

“Do you, too, like adventure?” asked Eustacie, looking her over with a more lenient eye.

“My dear ma’am, I have been looking for adventure all my life!”

“Well,” said Eustacie darkly, “this is an adventure of the most romantic, and it is certain that my cousin Tris—that people will come to search for me. You must promise not to betray me, and in particular not my cousin Ludovic, who is not permitted to set foot in England, you understand.”

“No power on earth shall ring a syllable from me,” Miss Thane assured her.

“Then perhaps I will let you help me to conceal my cousin Ludovic,” said Eustacie handsomely. “Only I think it will be better if I do not tell you anything at all until I have spoken with him, because I do not know him very well, and perhaps he would prefer that you should know nothing.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me anything!” said Miss Thane. “I feel it would almost spoil it for me if you explained it. You’re not eloping with your cousin, by any chance?”

“But, of course, I am not eloping with him! Voyons, how could I elope with him when I have only just met him? It would be quite absurd!”

“Oh, if you have only just met him, I suppose it would,” agreed Miss Thane regretfully. “It is a pity, for I have often thought that I should like to assist an elopement. However, one can’t have everything. You know, I feel very strongly that we ought to see what can be done for that wound of his. Not that I wish to interfere, of course.”

“You are entirely right,” said Eustacie. “I shall immediately go up to him. You may come with me if you like.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Thane meekly.

Joseph Nye had carried Ludovic to a little bedchamber at the back of the house and laid him upon his side on the chintz-hung bed. The tapster was kindling a fire in the grate, and Nye had just taken off Ludovic’s coat and laid bare his shoulder when the two women came into the room.

Eustacie shuddered at the sight of the ugly wound, still sluggishly bleeding, but Miss Thane went up to the bed and watched what Nye was about. In spite of their size, his hands were deft enough. Miss Thane nodded, as though satisfied, and said: “Can you get the bullet out, do you think?”

“Ay, but I’ll want water and bandages. Clem! leave that and fetch me a bowl and all the linen you can find!”

“You had better bring some brandy as well,” added Miss Thane, taking the bellows out of the tapster’s hands and beginning to ply them.

Eustacie, standing at the foot of the bed, watched Nye draw from his pocket a clasp-knife and open it, and somewhat hastily quitted her post. “I think,” she said in a rather faint voice, “that it will be better if it is I who attend to the fire, mademoiselle, and you who assist Nye. It is not that I do not like blood,” she explained, “but I find that I do not wish to watch him dig bullets out of my cousin Ludovic.”

Miss Thane at once surrendered the bellows into her charge, saying that such scruples were readily understandable. Clem came back in a few minutes with a bowl and a quantity of old linen, and for quite some time Eustacie kept her attention strictly confined to the fire.

Miss Thane, finding that the landlord knew what he was about, silently did what he told her, offering no criticism. Only when he had extracted the bullet and was bathing the wound did she venture to inquire in a low voice whether he thought any vital spot had been touched. Nye shook his head.

“I’ll get some Basilicum Powder,” said Miss Thane, and went softly away to her own room.

By the time the powder had been applied and the shoulder bandaged, Ludovic was showing signs of recovering consciousness. Miss Thane’s hartshorn held under his nose made his eyelids flutter, and a little neat brandy administered by Nye brought him fully to his senses. He opened a pair of dazed blue eyes, and blinked uncomprehendingly at the landlord.

“Eh, Mr Ludovic, that’s better!” Nye said.

Ludovic’s gaze wandered past him to Miss Thane, dwelt on her for a frowning moment, and returned to the contemplation of Nye’s square countenance. A look of recognition dawned. “Joe?” said Ludovic in a faint, puzzled voice.

“Ay, it’s Joe, sir. Do you take it easy, now!”

Remembrance came back to Ludovic. He struggled up on his sound elbow. “Damn that Exciseman! The child—a cousin of mine—where is she?”

Eustacie at the first sound of his voice had dropped the bellows and flown to the bedside. “I’m here, mon cousin!” she said, dropping on her knees beside him.

He put out his sound hand and took her chin in it, turning her face up that he might scrutinize it. “I’ve been wanting to look at you, my little cousin,” he said. A smile hovered round his mouth. “I thought as much! You’re as pretty as any picture.” He saw a tear sparkling on her cheek, and said at once: “What are you crying for? Don’t you like your romantic cousin Ludovic?”

“Oh yes, but I thought you were going to die!”

“Lord, no!” he said cheerfully. He let Nye put him back on to the pillows, and drew Eustacie’s hand to his lips, and kissed it. “You must promise me you’ll not go further with this trip of yours to London. It won’t do.”

“Oh no, of course I shall not! I shall stay with you.”

“Egad, I wish you could!” he said.

“But certainly I can. Why should I not?”

“Les convenances,” murmured Ludovic.

“Ah bah, I do not regard them! When one is engaged upon an adventure it is not the time to be thinking of such things. Besides, if I do not stay with you, I shall have to marry Tristram, because I have lost both my bandboxes, which makes it impossible that I should any longer go to London.”

“Oh well, you can’t marry Tristram, that’s certain!” said Ludovic, apparently impressed by this reasoning.

Nye interposed at this point. “Mr Ludovic, what be you doing here?” he demanded. “Have you gone crazy to come into the Weald? Who shot you?”

“Some damned Exciseman. We landed a cargo of brandy and rum two nights ago, and I’d a fancy to learn what’s been going forward here. I came up with Abel.”

Nye laid a quick hand across his lips and glanced warningly in Miss Thane’s direction.

“You needn’t regard me,” she said encouragingly. “I am pledged to secrecy.”

Ludovic turned his head to look at her. “I beg pardon, but who in thunder are you?” he said.

“It’s Miss Thane, sir, who’s putting up in the house.”

“Yes,” interrupted Eustacie, “and I think she is truly very sensible, mon cousin, and she would like infinitely to help us.”

“But we don’t want any help!”

“Certainly we want help, because Tristram will search for me, and perhaps the Excisemen for you, and you must be hidden.”

“And that’s true, too,” muttered Nye. “You’ll stay where you are tonight, sir, but it ain’t safe for longer. I’ll have you where you can slip into the cellar if the alarm’s raised.”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll be put in any cellar!” said Ludovic. “I’ll be off as soon as I can stand on my feet.”

“No, you will not,” said Eustacie. “I have quite decided that you must stop being a free trader and become instead Lord Lavenham.”

“That seems to me a most excellent idea,” remarked Miss Thane. “I suppose it will be quite easy?”

“If Sylvester’s dead, I am Lord Lavenham, but it don’t help me. I can’t stay in England.”

“But we are going to discover who it was who killed that man whose name I cannot remember,” explained Eustacie.

“Oh, are we?” said Ludovic. “I’m agreeable, but how are we going to set about it?”

“Well, I do not know yet, but we shall arrange a plan, and I think perhaps Miss Thane might be very useful, because she seems to me to be a person of large ideas, and when it is shown to her that she holds your life in her hands, she will be interested, and wish to assist us.”

“Do I really hold his life in my hands?” inquired Miss Thane. “If that’s so, of course I’m much interested. I will certainly assist you. In fact, I wouldn’t be left out of this for the world.”

Ludovic moved on his pillows, and said with a grimace of pain: “You seem to know so much, ma’am, that you may as well know also that I am wanted by the Law for murder!”

“Are you?” said Miss Thane, gently removing one of the pillows. “How shocking! Do you think you could get a little sleep if we left you?”

He looked up into her face and gave a weak laugh. “Ma’am, take care of my cousin for me till morning, and I shall be very much in your debt.”

“Why, certainly!” said Miss Thane in her placid way.

Ten minutes later Eustacie was ensconced in a chair by the fire in Miss Thane’s bedchamber, gratefully sipping a cup of hot milk. Miss Thane sat down beside her, and said with her friendly smile: “I hope you mean to tell me all about it, for I’m dying of curiosity, and I don’t even know your name.”

Eustacie considered her for a moment. “Well, I think I will tell you,” she decided. “I am Eustacie de Vauban, and my cousin Ludovic is Lord Lavenham of Lavenham Court. He is the tenth Baron.”

Miss Thane shook her head. “It just shows how easily one may be mistaken,” she said. “I thought he was a smuggler.”

“He prefers,” said Eustacie, with dignity, “that one should call him a free trader.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized Miss Thane. “Of course, it is a much better title. I should have known. What made him take to s—free trading? It seems a trifle unusual.”

“I see that I must explain to you the talisman ring,” said Eustacie, and drew a deep breath.

Miss Thane, a sympathetic listener, followed the story of the talisman ring with keen interest, only interpolating a question when the tale became too involved to be intelligible. She accepted Ludovic’s innocence without the smallest hesitation, and said at the end of the recital that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to assist in unmasking the real culprit.

“Yes,” said Eustacie, “and me, I think that it was perhaps my cousin Tristram, for he has a collection of jewellery, and, besides, he is a person who might murder people—except that he is not at all romantic,” she added.

“He sounds very disagreeable,” said Miss Thane.

“He is—very! And, do you know, I have suddenly thought that perhaps I had better marry him, because then he would have to show me his collection, and if I found the talisman ring it would make everything right for Ludovic.”

Miss Thane bent down to poke the fire. She said with a slight tremor in her voice: “But then if you did not find the ring it would be tiresome to have married him all to no purpose. And one has to consider that he might not wish to marry you.”

“Oh, but he does!” said Eustacie. “In fact, we are betrothed. That is why I have run away. He has no conversation. Moreover, he said that if I went to London, I should not find myself in any way remarkable.”

“He was wrong,” said Miss Thane with conviction.

“Yes, I think he was wrong, but you see he is not sympathique, and he does not like women.”

Miss Thane blinked at her. “Are you sure?” she said. “I mean, if he wants to marry you—”

“But he does not want to marry me! It is just that he must have an heir, and because Grandpère made for us a mariage de convenance. Only Grandpère is dead now, and I am not going to marry a person who says that he would not care if I went to the guillotine in a tumbril!”

“Did he really say that?” inquired Miss Thane. “He must be a positive Monster!”

“Well, no, he did not say exactly that,” admitted Eustacie. “But when I asked him if he would not be sorry to see me, a jeune fille, in a tumbril, and dressed all in white, he said he would be sorry for anyone in a tumbril, ‘whatever their age or sex or—or apparel’!”

“You need say no more; I can see that he is a person of no sensibility,” said Miss Thane. “I am not surprised that you ran away from him to join your cousin Ludovic.”

“Oh, I didn’t!” replied Eustacie. “I mean, I never knew I was going to meet Ludovic. I ran away to become a governess.”

“Forgive me,” said Miss Thane, “but have you then just met your cousin Ludovic by chance, and for the first time?”

“But yes, I have told you! And he said I should not do for a governess.” She sighed. “I wish I could think of something to be which is exciting! If only I were a man!”

“Yes,” agreed Miss Thane. “I feel very strongly that you should have been a man and gone smuggling with your cousin.”

Eustacie threw her a glowing look. “That is just what I should have liked! But Ludovic says they never take females with them.”

“How wretchedly selfish!” said Miss Thane in accents of disgust.

“Yes, but I think it is not perhaps entirely Ludovic’s fault, for he said he liked to have me with him. But the others did not like it at all, in particular Ned, who wanted to hit me on the head.”

“Is Ned a s—free trader too?”

“Yes, and Abel. But they are not precisely free traders, but only land smugglers, which is, I think, a thing inferior.”

“It sounds quite inferior,” said Miss Thane. “Did you meet your cousin Ludovic, and Ned, and Abel on your way here?”

“Yes, and when he seized me of course I thought Ludovic was the Headless Horseman!”

Miss Thane was regarding her as one entranced. “Of course!” she echoed. “I suppose you were expecting to meet a headless horseman?”

“Well,” replied Eustacie judicially, “my maid told me that he rides the Forest, and that one finds him up on the crupper behind one, but my cousin Tristram said that it was only a legend.”

“The more I hear about your cousin Tristram,” said Miss Thane, “the more I am convinced he is not at all the husband for you.”

“No, and what is more he is thirty-one years old, and he does not frequent gaming hells or cockpits, and when I asked him if he would ride ventre a terre to come to my deathbed, he said ‘Certainly not’!”

“This is more shocking than all the rest!” declared Miss Thane. “He must be quite heartless!”

“Yes,” said Eustacie bitterly. “He says I am not in the least likely to die.”

“A man like that,” pronounced Miss Thane, “would be bound to say the Headless Horseman was only a legend.”

“That is what I thought, but my cousin Ludovic was not after all the Headless Horseman, and I must admit that I have not yet seen him—or the Dragon which was once in the Forest.”

“Really, you have had a very dull ride when one comes to think of it.”

“Yes, until I met my cousin Ludovic, and after that it was not dull, because when he discovered who I was Ludovic said I must go with him, and I helped to lead the Excisemen into the Forest. He mounted behind me on Rufus, you see. That was when I lost the other bandbox.”

“Oh, you had a bandbox?”

“But yes, I had two, for one must be practical, you understand. But one I dropped just before I met Ludovic, and I forgot about that one. We threw the other away.”

Miss Thane bent over the fire again rather hastily. “I expect it was the right thing to do,” she said in an unsteady voice.

“Well, it was in the way,” explained Eustacie. “But I must say it now becomes awkward a little because all my things were in it.”

“Don’t let a miserable circumstance like that worry you!” said Miss Thane. “I will lend you a nightdress, and tomorrow we will decide whether to go and look for the bandboxes (though I feel that would be a spiritless thing to do) or whether to break into your home at dead of night and steal some more clothes for you.”

This suggestion appealed instantly to Eustacie. While she got ready for bed she discussed with Miss Thane the various ways in which it might be possible to break into the Court. Miss Thane entered into every plan with an enthusiasm which made Eustacie say as she blew out the candle: “I am very glad I have met you. I shall tell my cousin Ludovic that he must permit you to share the adventure.”

The excitements of the night had quite worn her out, and it was not long before she fell asleep, curled up beside Miss Thane in, the big fourposter.

Sarah Thane lay awake for some little time. It seemed to her that, she had undertaken a responsibility that would keep her well occupied during the immediate future. What would be the outcome of it all she had not the smallest idea; but she was fully determined, being entered into the adventure, to remain in it to the finish.

She was twenty-eight years old, an orphan, and for the past ten years had been living with her brother, an easy-going baronet some six or seven years her senior. Having been left in his ward, she considered, upon leaving school, that her proper place was at his side. Sir Hugh had not the least objection, so in defiance of several female relatives who one and all expressed the most complete disapproval she assumed control of the old manor-house in Gloucestershire, and when Sir Hugh took it into his head to travel (which was often) packed her trunks and went with him. For the first few years she had consented to take an elderly cousin with her as chaperone; the elderly cousin was indeed still nominally her chaperone, but she had long since ceased to accompany Sir Hugh and his sister upon their erratic journeys. For no one could deny that Sarah Thane was very well able to take care of herself, and the elderly cousin had not in the least enjoyed wandering about Europe in the wake of Sir Hugh’s vague fancy. Sarah, on the other hand, enjoyed it so much that she had never yet been tempted to exchange the companionship of a brother for that of a husband.

She and Sir Hugh were, at the moment, on their way to town, having been visiting friends in the neighbourhood of Brighton. They had spent a dull fortnight, and were now intending to spend two or three months in London. Their presence at the Red Lion was attributable to two causes, the first being an incipient cold in Sir Hugh’s head, and the second the excellence of Mr Nye’s brandy. Their original intention had been to stop only for a change of horses, but by the time they had arrived at Hand Cross it had begun to snow, and Sir Hugh had sneezed twice. While the horses were being taken out of the shafts, Sir Hugh, regarding the weather with a jaundiced eye, had let down the chaise-window to call for some brandy. It had been brought to him; he had taken one sip, and announced his intention of putting up at the Red Lion for the night.

“Just as you wish,” had said Miss Thane, most admirable of sisters. “But I don’t fancy the snow will amount to much.”

“Snow?” said Sir Hugh. “Oh, the snow! I believe I’m going to have a demmed bad cold, Sally.”

“Then we had better push on to London,” said Miss Thane.

“This brandy,” said Sir Hugh earnestly, “is some of the best I’ve tasted.”

“Oh!” said Miss Thane, instantly comprehending the situation, “I see!”

That the excellence of the brandy was not a matter of interest to her was an objection she did not dream of putting forward. She was far too well used to Sir Hugh’s vagaries not to accept them with equanimity, and she had followed him into the inn, resigning herself to a spell of inaction.

From this she seemed to have been miraculously saved. Sir Hugh might not know it, but there was now small chance of his journey being resumed upon the morrow. His sister had stumbled upon an adventure which appealed forcibly to her ever-lively sense of humour, and she had no intention of abandoning it.

In the morning she awoke before Eustacie, and got up out of bed without disturbing her. As soon as she was dressed she went along the passage to her brother’s room, and found him sitting up in bed, with his night-cap still on, being waited on by the tapster, who seemed to combine his calling with the duties of a general factotum. A tray piled high with dishes was placed on a table by the bed: Sir Hugh was breakfasting.

He gave his sister a sleepy smile as she entered the room, and, of habit rather than of necessity, picked up his quizzing-glass, and through it inspected a plate of grilled ham and eggs from which Clem had lifted the cover. He nodded, and Clem heaved a sigh of relief.

Miss Thane, taking in at a glance the proportions of this breakfast, shook her head, and said: “My dear, you must be very unwell indeed! Only one plate of ham, and those few wretched slices of beef to follow! How paltry!”

Sir Hugh, accustomed like so many large men to being a butt, received this sally with unruffled placidity, and waved Clem away. The tapster went out, and Miss Thane thoughtfully handed her brother the mustard. “What are your engagements in town, Hugo?”

Sir Hugh reflected while masticating a mouthful of ham. “Have I any?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t know, Should you mind remaining here for a time?”

“Not while the Chambertin lasts,” replied Sir Hugh simply. He consumed another mouthful, and added: “It’s my belief the liquor in this place never paid duty at any port.”

“No, I think it was probably all smuggled,” agreed Miss Thane. “I met a smuggler last night, when you had gone to bed.”

“Oh, did you?” Sir Hugh washed down the ham with a draught of ale, and emerged from the tankard to say, as a thought occurred to him: “You ought to be more careful. Where did you meet him?”

“He arrived at the inn, very late, and wounded. He’s here now.”

A faint interest gleamed in Sir Hugh’s eye. He lowered his fork. “Did he bring anything with him?”

“Yes, a lady,” said Miss Thane.

“No sense in that,” said Sir Hugh, his interest fading. He went on eating, but added in a moment: “Couldn’t have been a smuggler.”

“He is a smuggler, a nobleman, and one of the most handsome young men I have ever clapped eyes on,” said Miss Thane. “Tell me now, did you ever hear of one Ludovic Lavenham?”

“No,” said Sir Hugh, exchanging his empty plate for one covered with slices of cold beef.

“Are you sure, Hugo? He was used to play cards at the Cocoa-Tree—rather a wild youth, I apprehend.”

“They fuzz the cards at the Cocoa-Tree,” said Sir Hugh. “It’s full of Greeks. Foulest play in town.”

“This boy lost a valuable ring at play there, and was afterwards accused of having shot the man he played against,” persisted Miss Thane.

“I was very nearly done-up myself there once,” said Sir Hugh reminiscently. “Found a regular Captain Sharp at the table, thought the dice ran devilish queerly—”

“Yes, dear, but do you remember?”

“Of course I remember. Sent for a hammer, split the dice, and found they were up-hills, just as I’d expected.”

“No, not that,” said Miss Thane patiently. “Do you recall this other affair?”

“What other affair?”

Miss Thane sighed, and began painstakingly to recount all that Eustacie had told her. Sir Hugh listened to her with an expression of considerable bewilderment, and at the end shook his head. “It sounds a demmed silly story to me,” he said. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

When it was conveyed to him that his sister had pledged herself to assist these strangers in whatever perilous course they might decide to adopt he at first protested as forcibly as a man of his natural indolence could be expected to, and finally begged her not to embroil him in any crazy adventure.

“I won’t,” promised Miss Thane. “But you must swear an oath of secrecy, Hugh!”

Sir Hugh laid down his knife and fork. “Sally, what the deuce is all this about?” he demanded.

She laughed. “My dear, I’ve scarcely any more notion than you have. But I am quite sure of my clear duty, which is to chaperone the little heroine. Moreover, I admit to a slight feeling of curiosity to see the wicked cousin. I am at present at a loss to decide whether Sir Tristram Shield is the villain of the piece or merely a plain man goaded to madness.”

“Shield?” repeated Sir Hugh. “Member of Brooks’s?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“If he’s the man I’m thinking of he hunts with the Quorn. Bruising rider to hounds. Good man in a turn-up, too.”

“This sounds very promising,” said Miss Thane.

“Spars with Mendoza,” pursued Sir Hugh. “If he’s the man, I’ve met him at Mendoza’s place. But I dare say I’m thinking of someone else.”

“What is he like?” inquired Miss Thane.

“I’ve told you,” said Sir Hugh, buttering a slice of bread. “He’s got a right,” he added helpfully.

Miss Thane gave it up, and went back to her own bedchamber to see how her protégée did.

Eustacie, not a whit the worse for her adventure, was trying to arrange her hair before the mirror. As she had never attempted anything of the kind before the result was not entirely successful. Miss Thane laughed at her, and took the brush and the pins out of her hand. “Let me do it for you,” she said. “How do you feel this morning?”

Eustacie announced buoyantly that she had never felt better. Her first and most pressing desire was to see how her cousin did, so as soon as Miss Thane had finished dressing her hair they went off to the little back bedchamber.

Nye was with Ludovic, apparently trying to induce him to descend into the cellar. Ludovic, whose eyes were a trifle too bright and whose cheeks were rather flushed, was sitting up in bed with a bowl of thin gruel. As the two ladies came into the room he was saying carelessly: “Don’t croak so, Joe! I tell you I have it all fixed.” He looked up and greeted his visitors with a smile of pure mischief. “Good morning, my cousin! Ma’am, your very obedient! Have you seen any Excisemen below stairs yet?”

“Mr Ludovic, I tell you your tracks lead right to my door, and there’s blood on the snow!”

“You’ve told me that twice already,” said Ludovic, quite unmoved. “Why don’t you send Clem to clear the snow away?”

“I have sent him to clear it away, sir, but don’t you realize they’ll be able to trace you all the way from the Forest?”

“Of course I realize it! Haven’t I made my plans? Eustacie, my sweet cousin, will you have me for your groom?”

“But yes, I will have you for anything you wish!” said Eustacie instantly.

His eyes danced. “Will you so? Begad, if I can settle my affairs creditably I’ll remind you of that!”

“Sir, will you listen to reason?” implored Nye.

An imperious finger admonished him. “Quiet, you! I’ll thank you to remember I’m in the saddle now, Joe.”

“Are you indeed, Mr Ludovic? Well, I’ll do no pillion-riding behind you, for well I know what will come of it!”

“Take away this gruel!” commanded Ludovic. “And get it into your head that I’m not Mr Ludovic! I’m mademoiselle’s groom, whom the wicked smugglers fired at.” He cocked his head, considering. “I think I’ll be called Jem,” he decided. “Jem Brown.”

“No!” said Eustacie, revolted. “It is a name of the most undistinguished.”

“Well, grooms aren’t distinguished. I think it’s a good name.”

“It is not. It will be better if you are Humphrey.”

“No, I’ll be damned if I’ll be called Humphrey! If there’s one name I dislike that’s it.”

Miss Thane interposed placably. “Don’t argue with him, Eustacie. It’s my belief he’s in a high fever.”

He grinned at her. “I am,” he agreed. “But my head’s remarkably clear for all that.”

“Well, if it’s clear enough to grapple with the details of this story of yours, tell us what became of the groom’s horse,” said Miss Thane.

“The smugglers killed it,” offered Eustacie.

Ludovic shook his head. “No, that won’t do. No corpse. Damn the horse, it’s a nuisance! Oh, I have it! When I was shot the brute threw me, and made off home.”

“Maddened by fright,” nodded Miss Thane. “Well, I’m glad to have that point settled. I feel I can now face any number of Excisemen.”

“Mon cousin,” interrupted Eustacie suddenly, “do you think it is Tristram who has your ring?”

The laugh vanished from Ludovic’s eyes. “I’d give something to know!”

“Well, but I must tell you that I thought of a very good plan last night,” said Eustacie. “I will marry Tristram, and then I can search in his collection for the ring.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” snapped Ludovic.

Nye said roughly: “For shame, Mr Ludovic! What’s this unaccountable nonsense? Sir Tristram’s no enemy of yours!”

“Is he not?” retorted Ludovic. “Will you tell me who, besides myself, was in the Longshaw Spinney that accursed night?”

Nye’s face darkened. “Are you saying it was Sir Tristram as did a foul murder all for the sake of a trumpery ring, my lord? Eh, you’re crazed!”

“I’m saying it was he who met me in the Spinney, he who would have given his whole collection for that same trumpery ring! Didn’t he always dislike me? Can you say he did not?”

“What I wish to say,” interrupted Miss Thane in a calm voice, “is that I want my breakfast.”

Ludovic sank back on to his pillows with a short laugh. Nye, reminded of his duty, at once led both ladies down to the parlour, apologizing as he went for there being no one but himself and Clem to wait upon them. “I’ve only my sister besides, who does the cooking,” he told them, “and a couple of ostlers, of course. We don’t get folk stopping here in the winter in the general way. Maybe it’s as well, seeing who’s under my roof, but I doubt it’s not what you’re accustomed to, ma’am.”

Miss Thane reassured him. He set a coffee-pot down on the table before her, and said gloomily: “It’s in my mind that no one in his senses would take Mr Ludovic for a groom, ma’am. If you could get him only to see reason—! But there, he never did, and I doubt he never will! As to this notion he’s taken into his head that ’tis Sir Tristram who has his ring, I never heard the like of it! It was Sir Tristram as got him out of England—ay, and in the very nick!”

“Yes, and my cousin Basil says that it was to make him a murderer confessed!” said Eustacie.

Nye looked at her from under his rugged brows. “Ay, does he so? Well, I’ve not had the gloves on with Mr Lavenham, miss, but I’ve sparred with Sir Tristram a-many times, and I say he’s a clean-hitting gentleman! With your leave, ma’am, I’ll go back to Mr Ludovic now.”

He went out, and Miss Thane, pouring out two cups of coffee, said cheerfully: “At all events there seems to be some doubt about Sir Tristram’s guilt. I think, if I were you, I would not marry him until we can be positive he is the murderer.”

Upon reflection Eustacie agreed to the wisdom of this course. She ate a hearty breakfast, and returned to Ludovic’s room, leaving Miss Thane in sole possession of the parlour. Miss Thane finished her meal in a leisurely fashion, and had gone out into the coffee-room, on her way to the stairs, when the sound of an arrival made her pause. An authoritative, not to say peremptory voice outside called the landlord by name, and the next moment the door was flung open and a tall gentleman in riding-dress strode in, carrying a somewhat battered bandbox in either hand. He checked at sight of Miss Thane, favouring her with a hard stare, and putting down the bandboxes, took off his hat, and bowed slightly. “I beg your pardon: do you know where I may find the landlord?” he asked.

Miss Thane, one hand on the banisters, one foot on the bottom stair, looked at him keenly. A pair of stern, rather frowning grey eyes met hers with an expression of the most complete indifference. Miss Thane let go of the banisters, and came forward. “Do tell me!” she said invitingly. “Are you ‘my cousin Tristram’?”