Sir Tristram cast a glance up the stairs, and said in a voice edged with annoyance: “Very well, ma’am, but why there should be any doubt about my seeing my cousin I am at a loss to understand.”

“I can tell you that too,” said Miss Thane, leading the way to the private parlour. She shut the door, and said cheerfully: “One cannot after all be surprised. You have behaved with a shocking lack of sensibility, have you not?”

“I was not aware of it, ma’am. Nor do I know why my cousin should leave her home at dead of night and undertake a solitary journey to London.”

“She was wishful to become a governess,” explained Sarah.

He stared at her in the blankest surprise. “Wishful to become a governess? Nonsense! Why should she wish anything of the kind?”

“Just for the sake of adventure,” said Miss Thane.

“I have yet to learn that a governess’s life is adventurous!” he said. “I should be grateful to you if you would tell me the truth!”

“Come, come, sir! “ said Miss Thane pityingly, “it must surely be within your knowledge that the eldest son of the house always falls in love with the governess, and elopes with her in the teeth of all opposition?”

Sir Tristram drew a breath. “Does he?” he said.

“Yes, but not, of course, until he has rescued her from an oubliette, and a band of masked ruffians set on to her by his mother,” said Miss Thane matter-of-factly. “She has to suffer a good deal of persecution before she elopes.”

“I am of the opinion,” said Sir Tristram with asperity, “that a little persecution would do my cousin a world of good! Her thirst for romance is likely to lead her into trouble. In fact, I was very much afraid that she had already run into trouble when I found her bandboxes upon the road. Perhaps, since she appears to have told you so much, she has also told you how she came to lose them?”

Miss Thane, perceiving that this question would lead her on to dangerous ground, mendaciously denied all knowledge of the bandboxes. She then made the discovery that Sir Tristram Shield’s eyes were uncomfortably penetrating. She met their sceptical gaze with all the blandness she could summon to her aid.

“Indeed!” he said, politely incredulous. “But perhaps you can tell me why, if she was bound for London by the night mail, as her maid informed me, she is still in this inn?”

“Certainly!” said Sarah, rising to the occasion. “She arrived too late for the mail, and was forced to put up for the night.”

“What did she do for night gear?” inquired Shield.

“Oh, I lent her what she needed!”

“I suppose she did not think the loss of her baggage of sufficient interest to call for explanation?”

“To tell you the truth—” began Sarah confidingly.

“Thank you! I should like to hear the truth.”

“To tell you the truth,” repeated Sarah coldly, “she had a fright, and the bandboxes broke loose.”

“What frightened her?”

“A Headless Horseman,” said Sarah.

He was frowning again. “Headless Horseman? Fiddlesticks!”

“Very well,” said Sarah, as one making a concession, “then it was a dragon.”

“I think,” said Sir Tristram in a very level voice, “that it will be better if I see my cousin and hear her story from her own lips.”

“Not if you are going to approach it in this deplorable spirit,” replied Miss Thane. “I dare say you would tell her there are no such things as dragons or headless horsemen!”

“Well?”

Miss Thane cast down her eyes to hide the laughter in them, and replied in a saddened tone: “When she told me the whole I thought it impossible that anyone could be so devoid of all sensibility, but now that I have seen you I realize that she spoke no less than the melancholy truth. A man who could remain unaffected by the thought of a young girl, dressed in white, all alone, and in a tumbril—”

His brow cleared; he gave a short laugh. “Does that rankle? But really I am past the age of being impressed by such absurdities.”

Miss Thane sighed. “Perhaps that might be forgiven, but your heartlessness in refusing to ride ventre a terre to her deathbed—”

“Good God, surely she cannot have fled the house for such a ridiculous reason?” exclaimed Shield, considerably exasperated. “Why she should continually be harping on the notion of her own death passes my comprehension! She seems to me a perfectly healthy young woman.”

Miss Thane looked at him in horror. “You did not tell her that, I trust?”

“I don’t know what I told her. I might very easily.”

“If I were you,” said Miss Thane, “I would give up this idea you have of marrying your cousin. You would not suit.”

“I’m fast coming to that conclusion myself,” he said. “Moreover, Miss—What is your name?”

“Thane,” replied Sarah.

“Thane?” he repeated. “I fancy I have met someone of that name, but I do not immediately recall—”

“At Mendoza’s Saloon,” interpolated Sarah helpfully.

He looked a little amused. “Yes, possibly. But do you—”

“Or even at Brooks’s.”

“I am certainly a member.”

“My brother,” said Sarah. “He is at present in bed, nursing a severe cold, but I dare say he will like to receive you.”

“It is extremely obliging of him, but my sole desire is to see my cousin, Miss Thane.”

Sarah, whose attention had been caught by the sound of an arrival, paid no heed to this hint, but peeped over the short window-blind. What she saw made her feel uneasy; she turned her head and requested Sir Tristram to come at once. “Tell me,” she commanded, “who are these two men in uniform?”

He came to the window. “Only a couple of Excisemen,” he answered, after a casual glance.

“Oh, is that all?” said Miss Thane in rather a hollow voice. “I expect they have come to see what Nye keeps in his cellars. My brother fancies it is all smuggled liquor.”

He looked at her in some perplexity. “They won’t find anything. May I remind you, ma’am, that I wish to see my cousin?”

Miss Thane, having watched one of the Excisemen dismount and go into the inn, was straining her ears to catch what was being said in the coffee-room. She heard the landlord’s deep voice, and wondered whether he had succeeded in persuading Ludovic to descend into the cellar. She looked at Sir Tristram, reflecting that he could not have chosen a more inopportune moment for his arrival. She ought to get rid of him, she supposed, but he did not seem to be the sort of man to be easily fobbed off. She said confidentially: “Do you know, I think it would be wisest if you were to leave your cousin with me for the present?”

“You are extremely good, ma’am, but I mean to carry her to my mother in Bath.”

“Backgammon?” said Miss Thane knowledgeably. “She won’t go. In fact, I hardly think it is worth your while to remain here, for she is set against seeing you.”

“Miss Thane,” said Sir Tristram dangerously, “it is quite evident to me that you are trying to prevent my seeing my cousin. I have not the smallest notion why she does not wish to see me. But I am going to see her. I trust I have made myself quite plain?”

“Yes, quite,” said Miss Thane, catching an echo of Eustacie’s voice joined with Nye’s in the coffee-room.

It seemed as though Shield had heard it too, for he turned his head towards the door, listening. Then he looked back at Sarah and said: “You had better tell me at once, ma’am: what scrape is she in?”

“Oh, none at all!” Miss Thane assured him, and added sharply: “Where are you going?”

“To find out for myself!” said Shield, opening the door, and striding off to the coffee-room.

Miss Thane, feeling that as an accomplice she had not been a success, followed him helplessly.

In the coffee-room were gathered the landlord, Mademoiselle de Vauban, an Excise officer, and the tapster. The Excise officer was looking suspiciously from Eustacie to Nye, and Eustacie was talking volubly and with a great deal of gesticulation. When she saw her cousin on the threshold she broke off, and stared at him in consternation. The landlord shot a look at Sir Tristram under his jutting brows, but said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” said Miss Thane, in answer to a reproachful glance from Eustacie. “I could not stop him.”

“You should have stopped him!” said Eustacie. “Now what are we to do?”

Miss Thane turned to Sir Tristram. “The truth is, my dear sir, that your cousin fell in with a band of smugglers last night upon the road here, and had a sad fright.”

“Smugglers?” repeated Shield.

“Yes,” averred Eustacie. “And I am just telling this stupid person that it was I who came here last night, and not a smuggler.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the riding-officer, “but the young lady’s telling me that she rid here last night to catch the mail coach.” His tone inferred that he found the story incredible, as well he might.

“I’ll have you know,” growled Nye, “that the Red Lion’s a respectable house! You’ll find no smugglers here.”

“And it’s my belief I’d find a deal you’d like to hide if I knew just where those cellars of yours are, Mr Nye!” retorted the Exciseman. “It’s a fine tale you’ve hatched, and Miss knowing no better than to back you up in it, but you don’t gammon me so easily! Ay, you’ve been careful to sweep the snow from your doorstep, but I’ve followed the trail down the road, and seen the blood on it!”

“Certainly you have seen the blood,” said Eustacie. “There was a great deal of blood.”

“Miss, do you ask me to believe that you went gallivanting about on horseback in the middle of the night? Come now, that won’t do!”