The Talisman Ring

‘On my hip,’ said Shield. ‘You know the trick.’

Sir Hugh put up his glass and surveyed Mr Stubbs’s afflicted nose. ‘Drew his cork, too,’ he observed, with satisfaction.

‘No,’ replied Sir Tristram. ‘I fancy Miss Thane deserves the credit for that.’

‘I did hit him,’ admitted Sarah.

‘Good girl!’ approved her brother. ‘A nice, flush hit it must have been. But what were they chasing you for? That’s what beats me.’

‘They said I was Ludovic Lavenham, and they arrested me,’ said Miss Thane.

Sir Hugh repeated blankly: ‘Said you were Ludovic Lavenham?’ He looked at the Runners again. ‘They are mad,’ he said.

‘Drunk more like, sir,’ put in the landlord unkindly. ‘They’ve spent the better part of the afternoon in my tap-room, drinking Blue Ruin till you’d wonder they could walk straight.’

A protesting sound came from behind Mr Stubbs’s handkerchief.

‘So that’s it, is it?’ said Sir Hugh. ‘You’re right: they reek of gin!’

‘It ain’t true, your Honour!’ said Mr Peabody, much agitated. ‘If we had a drop just to keep the cold out –’

‘Drop!’ ejaculated the landlord. ‘Why, you’ve pretty near had all there is in the house!’

Mr Stubbs ventured to emerge from behind his handkerchief. ‘I take my solemn oath it ain’t true,’ he said. ‘We suspicioned the lady was this Loodervic Lavenham – that’s how it come about.’

Sir Tristram looked him over critically. ‘That settles it: they must be badly foxed,’ he remarked.

‘Of course they are,’ agreed Thane. ‘Thought my sister was a man? I never heard of anything to equal it! They’re so foxed they can’t see straight.’

Mr Peabody hastened to explain. ‘No, your Honour, no! It were all on account of that abigail we saw here, and which was turned off so sudden, and which we thought was the lady.’

‘You are making ma

tters worse for yourselves,’ said Sir Tristram. ‘First you say you thought Miss Thane was Ludovic Lavenham, and now you say you thought she was my cousin’s abigail. Pray, what were you about to chase an abigail?’

‘It’s as plain as a pikestaff what they are about,’ said Thane severely.

‘I knew she was a low, vulgar wretch!’ cried Eustacie, swift to improve this point.

The maligned Runners could only gape at her in dismay.

‘Well, Wright shall know how his precious Runners conduct themselves once they are out of his reach!’ promised Sir Hugh.

‘But, your Honour – but, sir – it weren’t like that at all! It was the abigail we thought was Loodervic Lavenham, on account of her being such a great, strapping wench, and when Miss here came so cautious out of the back door, like as if she was scared someone might see her, it was natural we should be mistook in her. What would the lady go out walking for when it was almost dark?’

Sir Hugh turned to look at his sister, his judicial instincts roused. ‘I must say, it seems demmed odd to me,’ he conceded. ‘What were you doing, Sally?’

Miss Thane, prompted partly by a spirit of pure mischief, and partly by a desire to be revenged on Sir Tristram for his inhuman suggestion of throwing cold water over her, turned her face away and implored her brother not to ask her that question.

‘That’s all very well,’ objected Thane, ‘but did you go out by the back door?’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Thane, covering her face with her hands.

‘Why?’ asked Sir Hugh, faintly puzzled.

‘Oh,’ said Miss Thane, the very picture of maidenly confusion, ‘must I tell you, indeed? I went to meet Sir Tristram.’

‘Eh?’ said Thane, taken aback.