She became aware of a throbbing pain in her head, of the smell of Hungary Water, and of the feel of a wet cloth across her brow. “Oh dear!” she said faintly. “The quizzing-glass! Did he get away?”

“By no means,” replied a calm voice. “There is nothing to worry you: we have him safely held.”

Miss Thane ventured to open her eyes. Sir Tristram was sitting on the edge of the couch in the parlour on which she had been laid, bathing her forehead. “Oh, it’s you!” said Miss Thane.

“Yes,” said Sir Tristram.

“I knew you must have returned,” murmured Miss Thane.

He replied in his cool way: “If you knew that, what in the world possessed you to try and stop the Beau? He had no hope of escaping. I was outside with a Runner to take him if he broke from Townsend.”

“Well, pray how was I to know that?” demanded Miss Thane.

“I imagine you might have guessed it.”

She closed her eyes again, saying with dignity: “I have the headache.”

He sounded amused. “That is not very surprising, since you were hit on the head.”

A rustle of skirts heralded Eustacie’s approach. Miss Thane opened her eyes again and smiled. “Oh, you are better!” said Eustacie. “Ma pauvre, I thought he had killed you! And I must tell you that he wrenched open the door and stepped backwards right into Tristram’s arms! It was of all things the most exciting! And, do you know, he tried to throw the quizzing-glass into the fire, which was entirely stupid, because that made it quite certain that he knew where the ring was hid. I do think that this has been the most delightful adventure!”

“So it has,” agreed Miss Thane. “Positively épatant! What have you done with the Beau, and where is Ludovic?”

“Oh, the Runners took Basil away in a chaise, and as for Ludovic, Nye has gone to let him out of the cellar.”

Miss Thane sighed. “Well, I suppose it is all for the best, but you know I cannot help feeling disappointed. I had quite made up my mind to it that Sir Tristram had absconded with the talisman ring, and I had thought of several famous schemes for recovering it. I never knew anyone so provoking!”

“Yes,” agreed Eustacie. “I must say, that is true. He is very provoking, but one must be just, enfin, and own that he has been very clever and useful.”

Miss Thane turned her head to look up at Sir Tristram. “I wish you will tell me what you did,” she said. “You were not on the Brighton mail, were you? Is it possible that you rode here ventre a terre?”

“No,” replied Sir Tristram. “I came post.”

Miss Thane seemed to abandon interest in his proceedings.

“Bringing with me,” continued Sir Tristram, “a couple of Bow Street Runners. When we arrived here I learned from Nye that by some stroke of good fortune the Beau was actually in the house. I had been wondering how we were to prevail upon him to own the quizzing-glass, and the difficulties of luring him to this place without letting him get wind of a trap seemed to me to be quite considerable. When we heard that he was already here, it was easy to set our trap. The only thing I feared was that one or other of you might put him on his guard by showing surprise at seeing the quizzing-glass. You are to be congratulated on concealing your emotions so well.”

“At first,” confessed Eustacie, “I was entirely bouleversée, and quite unable to speak. Then Sarah frowned at me, and I thought it would be better to remain silent. I thought the Runner was one of Basil’s men, did not you, Sarah?”

“Yes, I did at first,” replied Miss Thane. “But when he picked up the glass I knew Sir Tristram must be at the back of it. Is Ludovic safe now? Will he be able to take his place in the world again?”

“Yes, there can be no doubt of that. Basil lost his head, and his attempt to dispose of the ring was a complete betrayal. How do you feel, Miss Thane?”

“Very uneasy,” she replied. “I believe there is a lump on my forehead.”

“It is already much less pronounced than it was,” said Sir Tristram consolingly.

Miss Thane regarded him with misgiving. “Tell me at once, have I a black eye?” she said.

“No, not yet.”

She gave a shriek. “Not yet? Do you mean that I shall have one?”

“I should think it highly probable,” he said, a laugh in his voice.

“Bring me the hartshorn!” begged Miss Thane in failing accents, and once more closing her eyes.

“Certainly,” said Sir Tristram. “Eustacie, fetch the hartshorn.”

“She does not really want it, you know,” explained Eustacie. “She is jesting.”

“Nevertheless, fetch it,” said Sir Tristram.

“Eh bien!” Eustacie shrugged, and went away to look for it.

Miss Thane opened her eyes again, and looked at Sir Tristram with even more misgiving than before.

“Sarah,” said Sir Tristram, “I have a very important question to put to you. How many seasons have you spent at Almack’s?”

Miss Thane gazed at him with an expression of outrage in her face, and said: “Tristram, are you daring—actually daring—to choose this out of all other moments to make me an offer?”

“Yes,” replied Sir Tristram. “I am. Why not?”

Miss Thane sat up. “Have you no sense of romance?” she demanded. “I won’t—no, I won’t be proposed to with my hair falling down my back, a bandage round my head, and very likely a black eye as well! It is quite monstrous of you!”

He smiled. “Indeed, you will. You look delightfully. Will you marry me?”

“I have wronged you,” said Miss Thane, much moved. “If you think I look delightfully at this present, you must be a great deal more romantic than I had supposed.”

“It is a long time now since I have been able to look at you without thinking how very beautiful you are,” said Sir Tristram simply.

“Oh!” said Miss Thane, blushing, “you forget yourself! Do, pray, recollect that you do not look for romance in marriage! Remember your previous disillusionment! This will never do!”

“I see that I shall not easily be allowed to forget that nonsense,” said Sir Tristram, taking her in his arms. “Now be serious for one moment, Sarah! Will you marry me?”

“To be honest with you,” said Miss Thane, with the utmost gravity, “I have been meaning to marry you these ten days and more!”

A moment later Eustacie came into the room with Sir Hugh at her heels. She checked on the threshold in round-eyed amazement, but Sir Hugh merely said: “Oh, so you’re back, are you?”

“Yes,” said Shield, releasing Miss Thane. “Have I your permission to pay my addresses to your sister?”

“Oh, certainly, my dear fellow, by all means! Not that it’s anything to do with me, you know. She’s her own mistress now. What have you done to your head, Sally?”

“Ludovic’s wicked cousin knocked me down,” explained Miss Thane. “I have had a very exciting afternoon, throwing myself into the breach, and being stunned, and then having an offer of marriage made to me.”

“I thought there was a devilish amount of noise going on downstairs,” remarked Sir Hugh. “It’s time we finished with this cousin of Ludovic’s. I’ll bring an action against him for assaulting you.”

“An excellent notion, my dear, but the Crown is already bringing an action against him for murdering Sir Matthew Plunkett.”

“Never heard of him,” said Sir Hugh. “Not that I’m against it, mind you. A fellow who creeps about in a demmed loo-mask—”

“Sir Matthew Plunkett,” said Miss Thane patiently, “is the man Ludovic was accused of murdering two years ago. You must know that Ludovic will now be able to stop living in the cellar, and take up his rightful position at Lavenham Court.”

“Well, I must say I’m glad to hear that,” said Sir Hugh. “It never seemed to me healthy for him to be spending all his time in the cellar. I think if it’s true that he’s going to come into his inheritance, I’ll go and speak to him about that horse before it slips my memory.”

He left the room as he spoke. Eustacie, finding her tongue, blurted out: “But, Sarah, do you want to marry Tristram?”

Miss Thane’s eyes twinkled. “My love, when a female reaches my advanced years, she cannot be picking and choosing, you know. She must be content with the first respectable offer she receives.”

“Oh, now I know that you are laughing at me!” Eustacie said. “But I do not understand it. I find it quite extraordinary!”

“The truth is,” said Miss Thane confidentially, “that I cannot any longer bear his odious way of calling me ma’am. There was no other means of putting an end to it.”

“But, Sarah, consider! You are romantic, and he is not romantic at all!”

“I know,” replied Miss Thane, “but I assure you I mean to come to an understanding with him before the knot is tied ... Either I have his solemn promise to ride ventre à terre to my deathbed or there will be no marriage!”

“It shall be included in the marriage vow,” said Sir Tristram.

Eustacie, looking from one to the other, made a discovery. “Mon Dieu, it is not a mariage de convenance at all! You are in love, enfin!” she exclaimed.