said, of locking her own. She bore Eustacie off to her room, stayed with her till she was safely tucked up in bed, turned the lamp down, made up the fire, and went away wondering whether there really might be something to fear, or whether they had allowed their fancy to run riot. This problem kept her awake for some time, but after a couple of hours spent in straining her ears to catch the sound of a footfall she did at last fall asleep, lulled by the monotonous rise and fall of her brother’s snores, drifting to her ears from across the passage.
At one o’clock these ceased abruptly. The moon had reached a point in the heavens from which its rays were able to find out a chink between the blinds over Sir Hugh’s window. A sliver of silver light stole across his face. Its baleful influence was instantly felt. Sir Hugh awoke.
He knew at once what had roused him, and with a muttered curse, got up out of bed and stalked over to the window. A tug at the blind failed to put matters right, and Sir Hugh, blinking with sleep, perceived that a fold of the chintz had been caught in the hinge when the casement was shut. “Damned carelessness!” he said severely, and opened the window to release the blind.
There was a smart wind blowing; a sudden gust tore the casement out of his slack hold, and flung it wide. He leaned out to pull it to again, and as he did so noticed that one of the windows in the coffee-room directly beneath his bedchamber was also standing wide. It seemed to him unusual and undesirable that windows should be left open all night, and after regarding it for a moment or two with slightly somnolent disapproval, he drew in his head, turned up the wick of the lamp that stood by his bed, and lit a candle at its flame. Yawning, he groped his way into his dressing-gown, and then, picking up the candlestick and treading softly for fear of waking the rest of the household, sallied forth to rectify Nye’s omission.
He went carefully down the steep stairs, shading the flame of the candle from the draught. As he reached the bend in the staircase, and rounded it, he caught the glow of a light, suddenly extinguished, and knew there was someone in the coffee-room.
Sir Hugh might be of a naturally indolent disposition, but he had a rooted objection to fellows nefariously creeping about the house. He reached the bottom of the stairs with most surprising celerity, and, holding up the candle, looked keenly round the room.
A figure loomed up for an instant out of the darkness; he had a glimpse of a man with a mask over his face, and a dagger in his hand, and the next moment the candle was struck from his hold.
Sir Hugh launched himself forward, grappling with the unknown marauder. His right hand encountered something that felt like a neckcloth, and grasped it, just as the hilt of the dagger crashed down upon his shoulder, missing his head by a hair’s breadth. Before the unknown could strike again he had grabbed at the dagger hand, and found it, twisting it unmercifully. The dagger fell; and Sir Hugh’s grip slackened a little. The masked man, putting forth every ounce of strength, tore himself free, and made a dart for the window. Sir Hugh plunged after him, tripped over a stool, and came down on his hands and knees with a crash. The intruder was visible for a brief moment in the shaft of moonlight; before Sir Hugh could pick himself up he had vanished through the window.
Chapter Thirteen
Sir Hugh swore, and got up. The noise of his fall seemed to have penetrated to the rooms above, for a door was opened, footsteps were heard flying along the passage towards his bedchamber, and Eustacie’s voice sounded, begging the landlord to wake up and come at once.
“It’s only I!” called Sir Hugh, tenderly massaging his grazed shinbone. “Don’t start screeching, for the lord’s sake! Bring me a light.”
Another door opened; Miss Thane’s voice said: “What was that? I thought I heard a crash!”
“I dare say you did,” returned her brother. “I fell over a demmed stool. Send that scoundrel Nye down here. I’ve a bone to pick with him.”
“Good gracious, Hugh!” exclaimed Miss Thane venturing halfway down the stairs, and holding up a candle. “What in the world are you doing there? You do not know what a fright you put me into!”
“Never mind that,” said Sir Hugh testily. “What I want is a light.”
“My dear, you sound very cross,” said Miss Thane, coming down the remainder of the stairs, and setting her candlestick on the table. “Why are you here?” She caught sight of the curtain half drawn back from the windows, and the casement swinging wide, and said quickly: “Who opened that window?”
“Just what I want to ask Nye,” replied Sir Hugh. “The moon woke me, and I chanced to look out of my own window and saw this one open. I came down, and I’d no sooner got to the bottom of the stairs than a demmed fellow in a loo-mask knocked the candle out of my hand and tried to hit me on the head. No, it’s no use looking round for him: he’s gone, thanks to Nye leaving stools strewn about all over the floor.”
Eustacie, who had come downstairs with Nye, gave a sob of fright, and stared at Miss Thane. “He did come!” she said. “Ludovic! “ She turned on the word, and fled upstairs, calling: “Ludovic, Ludovic, are you safe?”
Sir Hugh looked after her in somewhat irritated surprise. “French! “ he said. “All alike! What the devil does she want to fly into a pucker for?”
Nye had gone over to the window and was leaning out. He turned and said: “The shutter’s been wrenched off its hinge, and a pane of glass cut out clean as a whistle. That’s where he must have put his hand in to open the window. You didn’t get a sight of his face, sir?”
“No, I didn’t,” replied Sir Hugh, stooping to pick up the dagger at his feet. “I keep telling you he wore a mask. A loo-mask! If there’s one thing above others that I hate it’s a lot of demmed theatrical nonsense! What was the fellow playing at? Highwaymen?”
“Perhaps,” suggested Miss Thane tactfully, “he did not wish to run the risk of being recognized.”
“I dare say he didn’t, and it’s my belief,” said Sir Hugh, bending a severe frown upon her, “that you know who he was, Sally. It has seemed to me all along that there’s a deal going on here which is devilish unusual.”
“Yes, dear,” said Miss Thane, with becoming meekness. “I think your masked man was Ludovic’s wicked cousin come to murder him with that horrid-looking knife you have in your hand.”
“There ain’t a doubt of it!” growled Nye. “Look what’s here, ma’am!” He went down on his knees as he spoke and picked from under the table a scrap of lace, such as might have been ripped from a cravat, and an ornate gold quizzing-glass on a length of torn ribbon. “Have you ever seen that before?”
Sir Hugh took the glass from him, and inspected it disparagingly. “No, I haven’t,” he said, “and what’s more, I don’t like it. It’s too heavily chased.”
Miss Thane nodded. “Of course I’ve seen it. But I was sure without that evidence. He must be feeling desperate indeed to have taken this risk!”
At this moment Eustacie came downstairs again, with Ludovic behind her. Ludovic, in a dressing-gown as exotic as Thane’s, looked amused, and rather sleepy, and dangled a pistol in his right hand. His eyes alighted first on the dagger, which Thane had laid down on the table, and he put up his brows with a rueful expression of incredulity, and said: “What, was that pretty thing meant to be plunged into my, heart? Well, well! What have you got there, Thane?”
“Do you recognize it?” said Miss Thane. “It is your cousin’s quizzing-glass.”
Ludovic glanced at it casually, but picked up the dagger. “Oh, is it? No, I can’t say I recognize it, but I dare say you’re right. To think of the Beau daring to come and tackle me with nothing better than this medieval weapon! It’s a damned impertinence, upon my soul it is!”
“Depend upon it, he hoped to murder you while you slept, and so make no noise about it,” said Miss Thane. “And, do you know, for all I jested with Sir Tristram over it, I never really thought that he would come!”
Sir Hugh looked at Ludovic and said: “I wish you would be serious. Do you tell me it was really your cousin here tonight?”
“Oh, devil a doubt!” answered Ludovic, testing the dagger’s sharpness with one slender forefinger.
“A cousin of yours masquerading about in a loo-mask?”
“Was he?” said Ludovic, interested. “Lord yes, that’s Basil all over! He’d run no risk of being recognized.”
“And you think he came here to murder you in your bed?” demanded Sir Hugh.
For answer, Ludovic held up the dagger.
Sir Hugh looked at it in profound silence, and then said weightily, “I’ll tell you what it is, Lavenham, he’s a demmed scoundrel. I never heard of such a thing!”
Eustacie, who had sunk into a chair, raised a very white face from her hands, and said in a low, fierce voice: “Yes, and if he does not go to the scaffold I myself will kill him! I will make a sacred vow to kill him!”
