The Talisman Ring

The Beau lifted his hand. ‘Sylvester and you got him out of the country,’ he corrected. ‘I had no hand in that, if you please.’

‘Had he stayed to face a trial nothing could have saved his neck.’

‘There I beg to differ from you, my dear Tristram,’ said the Beau calmly. ‘Had he been permitted to face his trial the truth might have been found out. When you – and Sylvester, of course – smuggled him out of the country you made him appear a murderer confessed.’

Sir Tristram was spared the necessity of answering by the entrance of Sylvester’s valet, who came to summon him to his great-uncle’s presence again. He went at once, a circumstance which provoked the Beau to murmur as the door closed behind him: ‘It is really most gratifying to see Tristram so complaisant.’

Eustacie paid no heed to this, but said: ‘Where is my cousin Ludovic now?’

‘No one knows, my dear. He has vanished.’

‘And you do not do anything to help him, any of you!’ she said indignantly.

‘Well, dear cousin, it is a little difficult, is it not?’ replied the Beau. ‘After that well-meaning but fatal piece of meddling, what could one do?’

‘I think,’ said Eustacie with a darkling brow, ‘that Tristram did not like my cousin Ludovic.’

The Beau laughed. ‘How clever of you, my dear!’

She looked at him. ‘What did you mean when you said he must show me his collection?’ she asked directly.

He raised his brows in exaggerated surprise. ‘Why, what should I mean? Merely that he has quite a notable collection. I am not a judge, but I have sometimes felt that I should like to see that collection myself.’

‘Will he not let you, then?’

‘Oh, but with the greatest goodwill in the world!’ said the Beau, smiling. ‘But one has to remember that collectors do not always show one quite all their treasures, you know!’

Two

Sir Tristram, standing once more beside Sylvester’s bed, was a little shocked to perceive already a change in him. Sylvester was still propped up by a number of pillows, and he still wore his wig, but he seemed suddenly to have grown frailer and more withdrawn. Only his eyes were very much alive, startlingly dark in his waxen face.

Sir Tristram said in his deep voice: ‘I’m sorry, sir: I believe my visit has too much exhausted you.’

‘Thank you, I am the best judge of what exhausts me,’ replied Sylvester. ‘I shan’t last much longer, I admit, but by God, I’ll last long enough to settle my affairs! Are you going to marry that chit?’

‘Yes, I’ll marry her,’ said Shield. ‘Will that content you?’

‘I’ve a fancy to see the knot well tied,’ said Sylvester. ‘Fortunately, she’s not a Papist. What do you make of her?’

Sir Tristram hesitated. ‘I hardly know. She’s very young.’

‘All the better, as long as her husband has the moulding of her.’

‘You may be right, but I wish you had broached this matter earlier.’

‘I’m always right. What did you want to do? Come a-courting her?’ jibed Sylvester. ‘Poor girl!’

‘You are forcing her to a marriage she may easily regret. She is romantic.’

‘Fiddlededee!’ said Sylvester. ‘Most women are, but they get the better of it in time. Is that damned mincing puppy-dog downstairs?’

‘Yes,’ said Shield.

‘He’ll put you in the shade if he can,’ said Sylvester warningly.

Sir Tristram looked contemptuous. ‘Well, if you expect me to vie with his graces you’ll be disappointed, sir.’

‘I expect nothing but folly from any of my family!’ snapped Sylvester.