“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. “Grandpиre 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?
“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.”
