“Eh?” said Thane, taken aback.

Miss Thane found that she had underrated her opponent. Not a muscle quivered in Shield’s face. He said immediately: “This news should have been broken to you at a more suitable time, Thane. Spare your sister’s blushes, I beg of you!”

Miss Thane, for once put out of countenance, intervened in a hurry. “We cannot discuss such matters now! Do, pray, send those creatures away! I will believe they meant me no harm, but I vow and declare the very sight of them gives me a Spasm!”

This request was so much in accordance with the Runners’ own wishes that they both looked hopefully at Sir Hugh, and gave him to understand that if he cared to order them back to London, they would be very glad to obey him. The day’s disasters had succeeded in convincing them that their errand was futile; and their main concern now was not to arrest a fugitive from the Law but to induce Sir Hugh to refrain from complaining of them to his friend, Sampson Wright. They were not drunk, and their motives had been of the purest, but against the testimony of Sir Hugh, and his sister, and Sir Tristram, and the landlord, they did not feel that they had any hope of being attended to in Bow Street.

Somewhat to their surprise, Miss Thane came to their support, saying magnanimously that for her part she was ready to let the matter rest.

“Wright ought to know of it,” said Sir Hugh, shaking his head.

“Very true, but you forget that they have been punished already for their stupidity. Sir Tristram was very rough with them, you know.”

Sir Hugh was slightly mollified by this reflection. After telling the Runners that he hoped it would be a lesson to them, and warning them that if he ever caught sight of their faces again within the portals of the Red Lion it would be the worse for them, he waved them away. They assured him they would go back to London by the night mail, and with renewed apologies to Miss Thane, bowed themselves out of the inn as fast as they could.

“Well, now that they’ve taken themselves off,” said Nye, “I’ll go and let Mr Ludovic out of the cellar.”

Sir Hugh was not at the moment interested in Ludovic’s release. He was regarding Shield in a puzzled way, and as soon as the landlord had left the room, accompanied by Eustacie, said: “I dare say Sally knows what she’s about, but I don’t think you should appoint her to meet you like that. It’s not at all the thing. Besides, there’s no sense in it. If you want to see her, you can do it here, can’t you? I’ve no objection.”

“I fear you can have no romantic leanings,” said Shield, before Miss Thane could speak. “A star-lit sky, the balmy night breezes—”

“But this is February! The breeze isn’t balmy at all—in fact, there’s been a demmed north wind blowing all day,” pointed out Sir Hugh.

“To persons deep in love,” said Sir Tristram soulfully, “any breeze is balmy.”

“Hateful wretch!” said Miss Thane, with deep feeling. “Pay no heed to him, Hugh! Of course, I did not go to meet him!”

Sir Tristram appeared to be overcome. “You play fast and loose with me,” he said reproachfully. “You have dashed my hopes to the ground, shattered my self-esteem—”

“If you say another word, I’ll box your ears!” threatened Miss Thane.

Sir Hugh shook his head at her in mild disapproval. “I see what it is: you’ve been flirting again,” he said.

“Don’t be so vulgar!” implored Miss Thane. “There’s not a word of truth in it! I went out merely to trick the Runners. Sir Tristram’s arrival was quite by chance.”

“But you told me—”

“The truth is that you have stumbled upon a secret romance, Thane,” said Sir Tristram, with a great air of candour.

Thane looked from Sir Tristram’s imperturbable countenance to his sister’s indignant one, and gave it up. “I suppose it’s all a hum,” he remarked. “Are you coming into the parlour? There’s a devilish draught here.”

“Presently,” replied Sir Tristram, detaining Miss Thane by the simple expedient of stretching out his hand and grasping her wrist.

She submitted to this, and when her brother had gone back to the parlour, said: “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Certainly you did,” agreed Sir Tristram, releasing her. “You would have been well served had I really thrown cold water over you. Are you at all hurt?”

“Oh no, merely a bruise or two! Your intervention was most timely.”

“And if I had not happened to have been there?”

“I should have allowed them to drag me back here, of course, and fainted in Hugh’s arms instead of yours.”

He smiled a little, but only said: “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh, perhaps it was not, as Eustacie would say, quite convenable,” she replied, “but you will admit that it has rid us of a grave danger.”

“You might have been badly hurt,” he answered.

“Well, I was not badly hurt, so we shall not consider that.”

At this moment Ludovic strolled into the room, and slid his sound arm round Miss Thane’s waist, and kissed her cheek. “Sally, I swear you’re an angel!” he declared.

“Anything less angelic than her conduct during the past half-hour I have yet to see,” observed Sir Tristram. “An accomplished liar would be nearer the mark.”

“Quant a ça, you also told lies,” said Eustacie. “You pretended to be in love with her: you know you did!”

“Did he?” said Ludovic. “Perhaps he is in love with her. I vow I am!”

“Cream-pot love, my child,” interposed Miss Thane composedly. “You are pleased with me for having rid you of those Runners. And now that they have gone, when shall we break into the Dower House?”

“Rid your mind of the notion that you are to make one of that party,” said Shield. “Neither you nor Eustacie will come with us—if we go at all.”

“Hey, what’s this?” demanded Ludovic. “Of course we shall go!”

Miss Thane looked at Shield with a humorous gleam in her eyes. “Now pray do not tell me that after all the trouble I have been put to to remove the bars of our adventure we are not to have any adventure!”

“I think you are likely to have all the adventure you could desire without going to the Dower House to look for it,” replied Shield. “I fancy the Beau’s suspicions will not be as easily allayed as the Runners’ were.”

“Well, if Basil comes spying after me himself, we shall see some sport,” said Ludovic cheerfully. “I wish you will discover when he means to go to town, Tristram.”

This was not a difficult task to accomplish, for the Beau, paying a friendly call upon his cousin that evening after dinner, volunteered the information quite unprompted. He wandered into the library at the Court, a vision of pearl-grey and salmon-pink, and smiled sweetly at Shield, lounging on the sofa by the fire.

Shield greeted him unemotionally, and nodded towards a chair. “Sit down, Basil: I’m glad to see you.”

The Beau raised his brows rather quizzically. “My dear Tristram, how unexpected!”

“Yes,” said Shield, “I’ve no doubt it is. I feel you should be told of an excessively odd circumstance. Are you aware that there have been a couple of Bow Street Runners in the neighbourhood, searching for Ludovic?”

For a moment the Beau made no reply. The smile still lingered on his lips, but an arrested expression stole into his eyes, as though he found such direct methods of warfare disconcerting. He drew up a chair to the fire and sat down in it, and said: “For Ludovic? Surely you must be mistaken? Ludovic is not in Sussex, is he?”

“Not that I am aware of,” replied Sir Tristram coolly, “but from what I could make out from the Runners someone has started a rumour that Eustacie’s smuggler was he.”

The Beau opened his snuffbox. “Absurd!” he murmured. “If Ludovic were in Sussex, he must have sent me word.”

“That is what I thought,” agreed Shield. “You are quite sure he has not sent you word?”

The Beau was in the act of raising a pinch of snuff to his nostrils, but he paused and looked across at his cousin with a slight frown. “Certainly not,” he answered.

“Oh, you need not be afraid to tell me if you have heard from him,” said Sir Tristram. “I wish the boy no harm. But if the rumour should be true, after all, you would be wise to get him out of the country again.”

The Beau did not say anything for several moments, nor did he inhale his snuff. His eyes remained fixed on Shield’s face. He shut his snuffbox again, and at last replied: “Perhaps. Yes, perhaps. But I do not anticipate that I shall hear from him.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I am amazed that such a rumour should have arisen—quite amazed. It had not reached my ears. In fact, my errand to you had nothing to do with poor Ludovic, wherever he may be.”

“I am happy to hear you say so. What is your errand to me?”

“Oh, quite a trifling one, my dear fellow! It is merely that I find myself obliged to go to London on a matter of stern necessity tomorrow—my new coat, you know: it sags across the shoulders: the most lamentable business!—and it occurred to me that you might wish to charge me with a commission.”

“Why, that is very good of you, Basil, but I believe I need not trouble you. I expect to leave this place almost any day now.”

“Oh?” The Beau regarded him thoughtfully. “I infer then that Eustacie is also leaving this place?”

Sir Tristram replied curtly: “I believe so. Shall you be in London for many days? Do you mean to return here?”

“Why, yes, I think so. I shall remain in town for a night only, I trust. I have given the servants leave to absent themselves for no longer. Ah, and that reminds me, Tristram! I wish you will desire that fellow—now, what is the name of Sylvester’s carpenter? Oh, Johnson!—yes, I wish you will desire him to call at the Dower House some time. My man tells me the bolt is off one of the library windows. He might attend to it, perhaps.”