The Talisman Ring

‘Well, but it would be a good thing, Sarah!’

‘A good thing for whom?’ demanded Miss Thane with asperity.

‘For Ludovic, of course! You do not mind doing just that little thing to help, do you? You said that you wanted to have an adventure!’

‘I may have said that I wanted to have an adventure,’ replied Miss Thane, ‘but I never said that I wanted to be murdered in my bed!’

‘But I find that you are absurd, Sarah! Of course he would not murder you!’

‘Unless, of course, he regarded it as a good opportunity to rid the world of a chattering female,’ said Sir Tristram, with a gravity wholly belied by the twinkle in his eyes. ‘That is a risk, however, which we shall have to run.’

Miss Thane looked at him. ‘You did say “we,” didn’t you?’ she said in a failing voice.

He laughed. ‘Yes, I said it. But in all seriousness, Miss Thane, I do not think there will be any risk. If you are afraid, share Eustacie’s bed.’

‘No,’ said Miss Thane, with the air of one going to the stake. ‘I prefer that my blood should be upon your heads.’

She spoke in jest, and certainly did not give the matter another thought, but the exchange had made an impression on Eustacie’s mind, and for the rest of the day she could scarcely bear to let Ludovic out of her sight. When Sir Tristram had gone, and Miss Thane proposed they should take their usual morning walk, she refused with such resolution that Miss Thane forebore to press the matter, but went out with her brother, leaving Eustacie keeping guard over Ludovic like a cat with one kitten.

As the day drew towards evening Eustacie’s fears became more pronounced. When the candles were lit and the blinds drawn, she persisted in hearing footsteps, and fancying some stranger to have got into the inn. She confided in Miss Thane that she was sure there was someone in the house, hiding, and insisted, in spite of his protestations that no one could have entered without his knowledge, upon Nye’s searching every nook and cranny. The house was an old and rambling one, and the boards creaked a good deal. Miss Thane, when Eustacie held up her finger for the fifth time, enjoining silence that she might listen for a fancied noise, said roundly: ‘A little more, and I shall be quite unable to sleep a wink all night. Now what’s amiss?’

Eustacie, drawing the curtains more closely across the window, said: ‘There was just a crack. Someone might look in and see Ludovic. I think it will be better if I pin the curtains together.’

Sir Hugh, who was engaged upon his nightly game of piquet with Ludovic, became aware of her restlessness, and turned to look at her. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘So you don’t like the moonshine either! It’s a queer thing, but if ever I have a bad dream you may depend upon it the moon’s up. There’s

another thing, too: if ever it gets into my room it wakes me. I’m glad to meet someone else who feels the same.’

No one thought it worth while to explain Eustacie’s real motive to him, so after recounting various incidents illustrative of the baneful effect of the moon upon human beings, he returned to his game, and speedily became oblivious of Eustacie’s fidgets.

Since Eustacie could not bring herself to go up to bed leaving Ludovic, quite heedless of danger, below-stairs, the piquet came to an early end, and the whole party went up to bed soon after ten o’clock. Having assured herself that the windows in Ludovic’s room were securely fastened and his pistols loaded and under his pillows, Eustacie at last consented, though reluctantly, to seek her own couch. Ludovic took her in his sound arm, and kissed her, and laughed at her fears. She said seriously: ‘But I am afraid. I love you so much that it seems to me very probable that you will be taken away from me. Promise me that you will lock your door and draw the bolts!’

He laid his cheek against her hair. ‘I’ll promise anything, sweetheart. Don’t trouble your pretty head over me! I’m not worth it.’

‘To me, you are.’

‘I wish I had two arms!’ he sighed. ‘Do you know that you are marrying a ne’er-do-well?’

‘Certainly I know it. It is just what I always wanted,’ she replied.

Miss Thane came along the passage at this moment and put an end to their tête-à-tête. She quite agreed with Eustacie that Ludovic must lock his door. She had every intention, she 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.

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 toward his bedchamber, and Eustacie’s voice sounded, begging the landlord to wake up and come at once.