A look of deep foreboding stole into Mr Stubbs’s watering eyes. “If we’ve made a mistake—” he began uncertainly.

“It’s my belief it’s a plot, and they’re both in it!” declared Mr Peabody.

“Take me to my brother!” begged Miss Thane, clinging to Sir Tristram’s arm. “I fear I may be going to swoon!”

Mr Stubbs looked at her over the handkerchief which he was holding to his nose. Also he looked at Sir Tristram, and rather unwisely accused him of having assaulted an officer of the Law.

“Oh, you’re law officers, are you?” said Sir Tristram grimly “Then you may come and explain yourselves to Sir Hugh Thane. Can you walk, ma’am, or shall I carry you?”

Miss Thane declined this offer, though in a failing voice, and accepted instead the support of his arm. The whole party began to walk slowly towards the Red Lion, Sir Tristram solicitously guiding Miss Thane’s tottering steps, and Mr Peabody leading Sir Tristram’s horse.

They entered the inn by the door into the coffee-room, and here they were met by Eustacie, who, upon sight of Miss Thane, gave a dramatic start, and cried: “Bon Dieu! What has happened? Sarah, you are ill!”

Miss Thane said faintly: “I scarce know ... Two men attacked me ...”

“Ah, she is swooning!” exclaimed Eustacie. “What an outrage! What villainy!”

Miss Thane, having assured herself that Sir Tristram was close enough to catch her, closed her eyes and sank gracefully back into his arms.

“Hartshorn! Vinegar! shrieked Eustacie. “Lay her on the settle, mon cousin!”

Nye, who had come in from the taproom, said: “What! Miss Thane in a swoon? I’ll call Sir Hugh this instant!” and strode away to the parlour.

Sir Tristram carried his fair burden to the settle and laid her down upon it. A glance at her charming complexion was sufficient to allay any alarm he might otherwise have felt and with his fingers over her steady pulse, he said: “I think we should throw water over her, my dear cousin. Cold water.”

Miss lips parted a little. A very soft whisper reached Sir Tristram’s ears. “You dare!” breathed Miss .

“Wait! I will instantly fetch the hartshorn!” said Eustacie, and turning sharp on her heel, collided with Mr Peabody, who was anxiously peeping over her shoulder at Miss Thane’s inanimate form. “Brute! Bully! Imbecile!” she stormed.

Mr Peabody stepped aside in a hurry. Having seen Miss Thane’s shapely figure in the candlelight, he was now quite sure that a mistake had been made, and the look he cast at Mr Stubbs, standing glumly by the door, was one of deep reproach.

Eustacie came running down the stairs again just as Sir Hugh walked into the coffee-room with the landlord at his heels.

“What’s all this?” demanded Sir Hugh. “Here’s Nye telling me some story about Sally fainting. She never faints!”

Sir Tristram, looking down at Miss Thane, saw a shade of annoyance in her face. His lips twitched slightly, but he answered In a grave voice: “I fear it is too true. You may see for yourself.”

“Well, of all the odd things!” said Sir Hugh, surveying her through his eyeglass with vague surprise. “I’ve never known her do that before.”

“She has sustained a great shock to her nerves,” said Shield solemnly. “We can only trust that she has received no serious injury.”

“Ah, la pauvre!” exclaimed Eustacie, enjoying herself hugely. “I wonder she is not dead with fright!” She thrust her cousin out of the way as she spoke, and sank upon her knees by the settle, holding the hartshorn under Miss Thane’s nose. “Behold, she is recovering! C’est cela, ma chère! Doucement, alors, doucement!” Over her shoulder she addressed Sir Hugh. “Those wicked men attacked her—with sticks!” she added, observing the Runners’ cudgels.

It took a moment for Sir Hugh to assimilate this. He turned and stared at the two Runners, incredulous wrath slowly gathering in his eyes. “What!” he said. “They attacked my sister? These gin-swilling, cross-eyed numskulls? This pair of brandy-faced, cork-brained—”

Miss Thane interrupted this swelling diatribe with a faint moan, and opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she said in a weak voice.

“Dieu soit bien!” said Eustacie devoutly. “She is better!”

Miss Thane sat up, her hand to her brow. “Two men with sticks,” she said gropingly. “They ran after me and caught me ... Oh, am I safe indeed?”

“A little brandy, ma’am?” suggested Nye. “You are all shook up, and no wonder! It’s a crying scandal, that’s what it is! I never heard the like of it!”

“Sally,” said Sir Hugh, “do you tell me that these blundering jackasses set upon you?”

She followed the direction of his pointing finger, and gave a small shriek, and clutched his arm. “Do not let them touch me!”

“Let them touch you?” said Sir Hugh, a martial light in his eye. “They had better try!”

“It was all a mistake, ma’am! No one don’t want to touch you!” said Mr Peabody. “I am sure we never meant no harm! It was the poor light, and us not knowing you.”

“All a matter of Dooty,” said Mr Stubbs, still holding his handkerchief to his nose.

“You hold your tongue!” said Sir Hugh. “Sally, what happened?”

“I scarce know,” replied his sister. “I went out for a breath of air, and before I had gone above a dozen steps I heard someone running behind me, and turning, saw these two men coming for me, and waving their sticks. I tried to escape, but they caught me, and handled me so roughly that I was near to swooning away on the spot. Then, by the mercy of Providence, who should come riding by but Sir Tristram! I screamed to him for help—indeed, I thought I was to be murdered or beaten into insensibility—and he flung himself from his horse and rescued me! He knocked the fat man down, and when the other one made for him with his cudgel threw him sprawling in the road!”

“Tristram did that?” exclaimed Eustacie. “Voyons, mon cousin, I begin to like you very much indeed!”

Sir Hugh, his wrath giving place momentarily to professional interest, said: “Threw him a cross-buttock, did you?”

“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 taproom, 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 matters 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 were about,” said Thane severely.

“I knew she was a low, vulgar wretch!” cried Eustacie, swift to improve on 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.”