“I wish I could be a smuggler,” said Eustacie wistfully. “I think I should like that.”

“You wouldn’t do for a smuggler,” he replied, shaking his head. “We don’t encourage females in the trade. It’s too dangerous.”

“Well, I do not think it is fair that just because one is a female one should never be allowed to have any adventures!”

“You seem to me to be having a deal of adventure,” he pointed out. “I might easily have choked the life out of you—in fact, I may still if you don’t behave yourself. You’re in a mighty tight corner.”

“Yes, I know I am having an adventure now,” agreed Eustacie, “and, of course, I am enjoying it, but I should like to continue having adventures, which is a thing not at all easy to arrange.”

“No, I suppose it’s not,” said the free trader thoughtfully.

“You see, if I were a man I could be a highwayman, or a smuggler like you. I expect you have had many, many adventures.”

“I have,” said the young man rather ruefully. “So many that I’m devilish tired of ’em.”

“But I have had only this one small adventure, and I am not yet tired. That is why I am going to London.”

“If you take my advice,” said the young man, “you’ll give up this notion of being a governess. Try something else!”

“Well, perhaps I will be a milliner,” said Eustacie. “When I get to London I shall consider carefully what is best for me to do.”

“Yes, but you aren’t going to London tonight,” he said.

“I am going tonight! You do not understand! If I do not go tonight I shall be found, and then I shall have to go to Bath to play backgammon, and be married to a person without sensibility!”

He seemed to be much struck by this, and said seriously: “No, that would be too bad. We must think of something. You’ll have to stay with me, at least till Abel reports all clear, of course, but there’s bound to be a London coach through Hand Cross in the morning.”

“And I tell you that in the morning it will be too late!” said Eustacie crossly. “I find that you are quite abominable! You spoil everything, and, what is more, I think you are excessively impertinent, because you have taken my horse away and stolen my pistol!”

“No, I haven’t,” he replied. “I’ve only had your horse tethered so that he can’t stray. As for your pistol, you can have that back now if you wish,” he added, diving his hand into his pocket and pulling out the weapon. “Though what in the world you want with an unloaded duelling pistol—”

He stopped suddenly, feeling the balance of the gun, and stepped into the moonlight to examine it more closely. Eustacie saw that he was very tall and fair, dressed in a common frieze coat and breeches, with a coloured handkerchief round his neck, and his pale gold hair loosely tied back from his face. He looked up from the pistol in his hand, and said sharply: “How did you come by this?”

“Well, it is not precisely my own,” said Eustacie. “It—”

“I know that. Who gave it to you?”

“Nobody gave it to me!”

“Do you mean you stole it?”

“Of course I did not steal it! I have just borrowed it because I thought it would be a good thing to take a pistol with me. Du vrai, it belongs to my cousin Ludovic, but I feel very certain that he would not mind lending it to me, because he is of all my family the most romantic.”

The free trader came back to her side in two quick strides. “Who the devil are you?” he demanded.

“I do not see what concern it is—”

He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. “Never mind that! Who are you?”

“I am Eustacie de Vauban,” she answered, with dignity.

“Eustacie de Vauban ... Oh yes, I have it! But how do you come to be in England?”

“Well, my grandpapa thought that they would send me to the guillotine if I stayed in France, so he fetched me away. But if I had known that he would make me marry my cousin Tristram, who is not amusing, I should have preferred infinitely to have gone to the guillotine.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “Is he at the Court? If you’re running way from him I’ll do what I can to help you!”

“Do you know him, then?” asked Eustacie, surprised.

“Do I know him! I’m your romantic cousin Ludovic!”

She gave a small shriek, which had the effect of making him clap his hand over her mouth again. “Fiend seize you, don’t make that noise! Do you want to bring the Excisemen down on me?”

She pulled his hand down and stood clasping it between both her own. “No, no, I promise I will be entirely quiet! I am so enchanted to meet you! I thought I never should, because Tristram said you could not set foot in England any more.”

“I dare say he did,” replied Ludovic. “But here I am for all that. You’ve only to breathe one word and I shall have Bow Street Runners as well as Excisemen on my trail.”

She said fiercely: “I shall not breathe any word at all, and I think you are quite insulting to say that!”

He put his other hand over hers. “Did they tell you why I can’t set foot in England?”

“Yes, but I do not care. Did you kill that person whose name I have forgotten?”

“No, I did not.”

“Bon! Then we must at once discover who did do it,” said Eustacie briskly. “I see now that this is a much better adventure than I thought.”

“Do you believe me, then?” he asked.

“But certainly I believe you!”

He laughed, and pulling her to him, kissed her cheek. “Well, save for Basil, you’re the only person who does.”

“Yes,” said Eustacie. “But me, I do not like Basil.”

He was about to answer her when Ned Bundy loomed up through the darkness and twitched his sleeve. “Abel,” he said laconically.

Eustacie heard the crunch of a pony’s hooves on the snow and the next moment saw the pony, with a short, thick-set man sitting astride the pack-saddle. Ludovic took her hand and led her up to the newcomer. “Well?” he said.

“There’s a dunnamany Excisemen out. We’ll have to make back to Cowfold—if we can,” said Mr Bundy, dismounting. He became aware of Eustacie, and favoured her with a long dispassionate look. “Where did that dentical wench come from?” he inquired.

“She’s my cousin. Can’t we win through to Hand Cross?”

Mr Bundy accepted Eustacie’s identity without comment and apparently without interest. “We’m not likely to win to Cowfold,” he replied. “They’re on to us.”

At this gloomy pronouncement his brother Ned, pulling him a little apart, broke into urgent, low-voiced speech. Ludovic strode over to join in the discussion, and returned in a few minutes to Eustacie’s side, saying briskly: “Well, I’m sorry for it, but I can’t let you go to London tonight. You’ll have to come with us.”

“Oh, I would much rather come with you,” Eustacie assured him. “Where are we going?”

“South,” he replied briefly. “Those damned riding-officers must have got wind of this convoy. There may be some rough work done before the night’s out, I warn you. Come along!”

He seized her by the wrist again and strode off with her to where her horse had been tethered, and without ceremony tossed her up into the saddle. Eustacie, seeing the two Bundys busy with the laden ponies, said emulatively: “Can I help to lead them, please?”

“No. Keep quiet.”

“But what can I do?”

“Nothing.”

Ned Bundy said something under his breath.

“I dare say, but I’m not going to have a cousin of mine hit over the head,” said Ludovic. “Ready, Abel?”

A grunt answered him; the train began to move southward, Abel at its head. Ludovic mounted a rough pony and brought up the rear, still holding Eustacie’s bridle. She took instant exception to this, and after a short but pungent argument he let her go free, much against the advice of Ned Bundy, who was ranging alongside the convoy, whipping up the stragglers.

Eustacie interrupted Mr Bundy’s muttered suggestions for the disposal of her person by announcing calmly that she was quite tired of him, a remark which surprised that ferocious gentleman so much that he could think of nothing to say, and retired towards the head of the train. “Why does he want to hit me on the head?” asked Eustacie, looking critically after him. “He seems to me entirely stupid.”

“Well, he don’t hold with women being mixed up in these affairs,” explained Ludovic. “You’re devilish in the way, you know.”

“But you do not mind having me with you, do you?” asked Eustacie anxiously.

“Lord, no, I like it!” replied Ludovic light-heartedly. “Only you won’t care for it if there’s any shooting done.”

“Yes, I shall,” said Eustacie. “In fact, I wish very much that you will load my pistol for me and give it back to me, because if there is to be shooting I should like to shoot, too.”

“It’s not your pistol,” retorted Ludovic. “It’s mine, and let me tell you that I don’t lend my duelling pistols to anyone. Where is the other?”

“I left it in the case. I think you should be glad to lend it to me.”

“Well, I’m not. Where did you get this notion I was romantic?”

“But you have had a very romantic life; of course, I knew you were romantic!”

“I’ve had a damned uncomfortable life. Tell me more about this marriage of yours. Why must you marry Tristram if you don’t want to? Is it Sylvester’s doing?”

“Yes, he made for me a mariage de convenance, but he is dead now, and I am going to arrange my own affairs.”

“What! is Sylvester dead?” exclaimed Ludovic.

“Yes, since three days. So now it is you who are Lord Lavenham.”

“Much good will that do me!” said Ludovic. “Where’s Basil?”

“He is at the Dower House, of course, and Tristram is at the Court.”