The Talisman Ring

‘Of course I remember. Sent for a hammer, split the dice, and found they were up-hills, just as I’d expected.’

‘No, not that,’ said Miss Thane patiently. ‘Do you recall this other affair?’

‘What other affair?’

Miss Thane sighed, and began painstakingly to recount all that Eustacie had told her. Sir Hugh listened to her with an expression of considerable bewilderment, and at the end shook his head. ‘It sounds a demmed silly story to me,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t talk to strangers.’

When it was conveyed to him that his sister had pledged herself to assist these strangers in whatever perilous course they might decide to adopt he at first protested as forcibly as a man of his natural indolence could be expected to, and finally begged her not to embroil him in any crazy adventure.

‘I won’t,’ promised Miss Thane. ‘But you must swear an oath of secrecy, Hugh!’

Sir Hugh laid down his knife and fork. ‘Sally, what the deuce is all this about?’ he demanded.

She laughed. ‘My dear, I’ve scarcely any more notion than you have. But I am quite sure of my clear duty, which is to chaperon the little h

eroine. Moreover, I admit to a slight feeling of curiosity to see the wicked cousin. I am at present at a loss to decide whether Sir Tristram Shield is the villain of the piece or merely a plain man goaded to madness.’

‘Shield?’ repeated Sir Hugh. ‘Member of Brooks’s?’

‘I don’t know. Do you?’

‘If he’s the man I’m thinking of he hunts with the Quorn. Bruising rider to hounds. Good man in a turn-up, too.’

‘This sounds very promising,’ said Miss Thane.

‘Spars with Mendoza,’ pursued Sir Hugh. ‘If he’s the man, I’ve met him at Mendoza’s place. But I dare say I’m thinking of someone else.’

‘What is he like?’ inquired Miss Thane.

‘I’ve told you,’ said Sir Hugh, buttering a slice of bread. ‘He’s got a right,’ he added helpfully.

Miss Thane gave it up, and went back to her own bedchamber to see how her protégée did.

Eustacie, not a whit the worse for her adventure, was trying to arrange her hair before the mirror. As she had never attempted anything of the kind before the result was not entirely successful. Miss Thane laughed at her, and took the brush and the pins out of her hand. ‘Let me do it for you,’ she said. ‘How do you feel this morning?’

Eustacie announced buoyantly that she had never felt better. Her first and most pressing desire was to see how her cousin did, so as soon as Miss Thane had finished dressing her hair they went off to the little back bedchamber.

Nye was with Ludovic, apparently trying to induce him to descend into the cellar. Ludovic, whose eyes were a trifle too bright and whose cheeks were rather flushed, was sitting up in bed with a bowl of thin gruel. As the two ladies came into the room he was saying carelessly: ‘Don’t croak so, Joe! I tell you I have it all fixed.’ He looked up and greeted his visitors with a smile of pure mischief. ‘Good morning, my cousin! Ma’am, your very obedient! Have you seen any Excisemen below-stairs yet?’

‘Mr Ludovic, I tell you your tracks lead right to my door, and there’s blood on the snow!’

‘You’ve told me that twice already,’ said Ludovic, quite unmoved. ‘Why don’t you send Clem to clear the snow away?’

‘I have sent him to clear it away, sir, but don’t you realize they’ll be able to trace you all the way from the Forest?’

‘Of course I realize it! Haven’t I made my plans? Eustacie, my sweet cousin, will you have me for your groom?’

‘But yes, I will have you for anything you wish!’ said Eustacie instantly.

His eyes danced. ‘Will you so? Begad, if I can settle my affairs creditably I’ll remind you of that!’

‘Sir, will you listen to reason?’ implored Nye.

An imperious finger admonished him. ‘Quiet, you! I’ll thank you to remember I’m in the saddle now, Joe.’

‘Are you indeed, Mr Ludovic? Well, I’ll do no pillion-riding behind you, for well I know what will come of it!’

‘Take away this gruel!’ commanded Ludovic. ‘And get it into your head that I’m not Mr Ludovic! I’m mademoiselle’s groom, which the wicked smugglers fired at.’ He cocked his head, considering. ‘I think I’ll be called Jem,’ he decided. ‘Jem Brown.’