The Talisman Ring Read online

  ‘No,’ said the Beau slowly. ‘No. He has not told me. Is it possible that my house was broken into?’

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Sir Tristram. ‘If your servants are to be believed a band of desperate ruffians entered through the library window.’

  ‘Yes,’ chimed in Miss Thane, ‘and only fancy, Mr Lavenham! Sir Tristram had been dining with us here, and was riding back to the Court when he heard shots coming from the Dower House. You may imagine his amazement! I am sure you should be grateful to him, for he instantly rode up to the house. You may depend upon it, it was the noise of his arrival which frightened the wretches into running away.’

  The glance the Beau cast at his cousin was scarcely one of gratitude. He had turned rather pale, but he said in quite level tones: ‘I am indeed grateful. What a fortunate chance that you should have been passing the house just at that moment, Tristram! I suppose none of these rogues was apprehended?’

  ‘I fear not,’ replied Shield. ‘By the time I entered the house there was no sign of them. There had been (as you will see for yourself presently) a prodigious struggle in the library – quite a mill, I understand. I am afraid your fellows were much knocked about. In fact, your butler,’ he pursued, stooping to put another log on the fire, ‘welcomed my advent with profound relief.’

  ‘No doubt!’ said the Beau, breathing rather quickly. ‘I do not doubt it!’

  ‘The poor butler!’ said Miss Thane, with a tinkling laugh. ‘I am sure I do not wonder he should be alarmed! He must feel you to be his preserver, Sir Tristram. He will be doubly glad to exchange his masters!’

  The Beau looked at her. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’

  Miss Thane said: ‘I only meant, since he was about to enter Sir Tristram’s service –’

  ‘You are mistaken, Miss Thane,’ Sir Tristram interrupted, frowning at her. ‘There is no question of my cousin’s butler leaving his service that I know of.’

  ‘Oh, how stupid of me! Only you was saying to Eustacie that you had found Mr Lavenham’s butler, and she asked, do you not remember, whether his memory –’

  Eustacie said in a hurry: ‘I hope so much that nothing has been stolen from your house, Basil. To have –’

  ‘So do I hope it, my cousin. But pray let Miss Thane continue!’

  Miss Thane, encountering a frown from Eustacie, stammered: ‘Oh, indeed it was nothing! I would not for the world – I mean, I was mistaken! I confused one thing with another. My brother tells me I am a sad shatterbrain.’

  Sir Tristram intervened, saying in his cool way: ‘I am making no attempt to steal your butler from you, I assure you, Basil.’

  ‘Of course not! The stupidest mistake!’ said Miss Thane, all eagerness to atone. ‘It is not your present butler, Mr Lavenham, but one you was used to employ. I remember perfectly now!’ She looked from Sir Tristram to Eustacie and faltered: ‘Have I said something I ought not? But you did tell Eustacie.’

  The Beau was gripping his snuff-box tightly. ‘Yes? A butler I once employed? Are you thinking of taking him into your service, Tristram?’

  ‘Why, yes, I confess I had some such notion,’ admitted Shield. ‘You have no objection, I trust?’

  ‘Why should I?’ said the Beau, with a singularly mirthless smile. ‘I doubt, though, whether you will find him so useful as you expect.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say I shall not engage him after all,’ replied Shield, and made haste to change the subject.

  The Beau did not linger. Excusing himself on the score of being obliged to go home to ascertain what losses, if any, he had sustained, he very soon took his leave of the party, and drove away in the direction of Warninglid.

  No sooner as he had left the inn than Eustacie cast herself upon Miss Thane’s bosom, announcing that she forgave her for her unfeeling conduct of the night before. ‘You did it so very well, Sarah. He was bouleversé, and I think frightened.’

  ‘He was certainly frightened,’ agreed Miss Thane. ‘He forgot to smile. What do you suppose he will do, Sir Tristram?’

  ‘I hope he may make an attempt to find Cleghorn and buy his silence. If he does he will have delivered himself into our hands. But don’t let Ludovic stir from the house! I’ll warn Nye to be careful whom he lets into the inn.’

  ‘I can feel my flesh creeping already,’ said Miss Thane, with a shudder. ‘It has suddenly occurred to me that that very unpleasant person thinks Ludovic is occupying the back bedchamber.’

  Eustacie gave a gasp. ‘Oh, Sarah, you do not think he will come to murder Ludovic, do you?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised,’ said Miss Thane. ‘And I am occupying the back bedchamber! I just mention it, you know.’

  ‘So you are!’ Eustacie’s face cleared. ‘But it is of all things the most fortunate! It could not be better, enfin !’

  ‘That,’ said Miss Thane, with strong feeling, ‘is a matter of opinion. I can see where it could be much better.’

  ‘But no, Sarah! If Basil comes to murder Ludovic in the night he will find not Ludovic, but you!’

  ‘Yes, that was what I was thinking,’ said Miss Thane.

  ‘Well, but it would be a good thing, Sarah!’

  ‘A good thing for whom?’ demanded Miss Thane with asperity.

  ‘For Ludovic, of course! You do not mind doing just that little thing to help, do you? You said that you wanted to have an adventure!’

  ‘I may have said that I wanted to have an adventure,’ replied Miss Thane, ‘but I never said that I wanted to be murdered in my bed!’

  ‘But I find that you are absurd, Sarah! Of course he would not murder you!’

  ‘Unless, of course, he regarded it as a good opportunity to rid the world of a chattering female,’ said Sir Tristram, with a gravity wholly belied by the twinkle in his eyes. ‘That is a risk, however, which we shall have to run.’

  Miss Thane looked at him. ‘You did say “we,” didn’t you?’ she said in a failing voice.

  He laughed. ‘Yes, I said it. But in all seriousness, Miss Thane, I do not think there will be any risk. If you are afraid, share Eustacie’s bed.’

  ‘No,’ said Miss Thane, with the air of one going to the stake. ‘I prefer that my blood should be upon your heads.’

  She spoke in jest, and certainly did not give the matter another thought, but the exchange had made an impression on Eustacie’s mind, and for the rest of the day she could scarcely bear to let Ludovic out of her sight. When Sir Tristram had gone, and Miss Thane proposed they should take their usual morning walk, she refused with such resolution that Miss Thane forebore to press the matter, but went out with her brother, leaving Eustacie keeping guard over Ludovic like a cat with one kitten.

  As the day drew towards evening Eustacie’s fears became more pronounced. When the candles were lit and the blinds drawn, she persisted in hearing footsteps, and fancying some stranger to have got into the inn. She confided in Miss Thane that she was sure there was someone in the house, hiding, and insisted, in spite of his protestations that no one could have entered without his knowledge, upon Nye’s searching every nook and cranny. The house was an old and rambling one, and the boards creaked a good deal. Miss Thane, when Eustacie held up her finger for the fifth time, enjoining silence that she might listen for a fancied noise, said roundly: ‘A little more, and I shall be quite unable to sleep a wink all night. Now what’s amiss?’

  Eustacie, drawing the curtains more closely across the window, said: ‘There was just a crack. Someone might look in and see Ludovic. I think it will be better if I pin the curtains together.’

  Sir Hugh, who was engaged upon his nightly game of piquet with Ludovic, became aware of her restlessness, and turned to look at her. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘So you don’t like the moonshine either! It’s a queer thing, but if ever I have a bad dream you may depend upon it the moon’s up. There’s
another thing, too: if ever it gets into my room it wakes me. I’m glad to meet someone else who feels the same.’

  No one thought it worth while to explain Eustacie’s real motive to him, so after recounting various incidents illustrative of the baneful effect of the moon upon human beings, he returned to his game, and speedily became oblivious of Eustacie’s fidgets.

  Since Eustacie could not bring herself to go up to bed leaving Ludovic, quite heedless of danger, below-stairs, the piquet came to an early end, and the whole party went up to bed soon after ten o’clock. Having assured herself that the windows in Ludovic’s room were securely fastened and his pistols loaded and under his pillows, Eustacie at last consented, though reluctantly, to seek her own couch. Ludovic took her in his sound arm, and kissed her, and laughed at her fears. She said seriously: ‘But I am afraid. I love you so much that it seems to me very probable that you will be taken away from me. Promise me that you will lock your door and draw the bolts!’

  He laid his cheek against her hair. ‘I’ll promise anything, sweetheart. Don’t trouble your pretty head over me! I’m not worth it.’

  ‘To me, you are.’

  ‘I wish I had two arms!’ he sighed. ‘Do you know that you are marrying a ne’er-do-well?’

  ‘Certainly I know it. It is just what I always wanted,’ she replied.

  Miss Thane came along the passage at this moment and put an end to their tête-à-tête. She quite agreed with Eustacie that Ludovic must lock his door. She had every intention, she said, of locking her own. She bore Eustacie off to her room, stayed with her till she was safely tucked up in bed, turned the lamp down, made up the fire, and went away wondering whether there really might be something to fear, or whether they had allowed their fancy to run riot. This problem kept her awake for some time, but after a couple of hours spent in straining her ears to catch the sound of a footfall she did at last fall asleep, lulled by the monotonous rise and fall of her brother’s snores, drifting to her ears from across the passage.

  At one o’clock these ceased abruptly. The moon had reached a point in the heavens from which its rays were able to find out a chink between the blinds over Sir Hugh’s window. A sliver of silver light stole across his face. Its baleful influence was instantly felt. Sir Hugh awoke.

  He knew at once what had roused him, and with a muttered curse, got up out of bed and stalked over to the window. A tug at the blind failed to put matters right, and Sir Hugh, blinking with sleep, perceived that a fold of the chintz had been caught in the hinge when the casement was shut. ‘Damned carelessness!’ he said severely, and opened the window to release the blind.

  There was a smart wind blowing; a sudden gust tore the casement out of his slack hold, and flung it wide. He leaned out to pull it to again, and as he did so noticed that one of the windows in the coffee-room directly beneath his bedchamber was also standing wide. It seemed to him unusual and undesirable that windows should be left open all night, and after regarding it for a moment or two with slightly somnolent disapproval, he drew in his head, turned up the wick of the lamp that stood by his bed, and lit a candle at its flame. Yawning, he groped his way into his dressing-gown, and then, picking up the candlestick and treading softly for fear of waking the rest of the household, sallied forth to rectify Nye’s omission.

  He went carefully down the steep stairs, shading the flame of the candle from the draught. As he reached the bend in the staircase, and rounded it, he caught the glow of a light, suddenly extinguished, and knew there was someone in the coffee-room.

  Sir Hugh might be of a naturally indolent disposition, but he had a rooted objection to fellows nefariously creeping about the house. He reached the bottom of the stairs with most surprising celerity, and, holding up the candle, looked keenly round the room.

  A figure loomed up for an instant out of the darkness; he had a glimpse of a man with a mask over his face, and a dagger in his hand, and the next moment the candle was struck from his hold.

  Sir Hugh launched himself forward, grappling with the unknown marauder. His right hand encountered something that felt like a neckcloth, and grasped it, just as the hilt of the dagger crashed down upon his shoulder, missing his head by a hair’s breadth. Before the unknown could strike again he had grabbed at the dagger-hand, and found it, twisting it unmercifully. The dagger fell; and Sir Hugh’s grip slackened a little. The masked man, putting forth every ounce of strength, tore himself free, and made a dart for the window. Sir Hugh plunged after him, tripped over a stool, and came down on his hands and knees with a crash. The intruder was visible for a brief moment in the shaft of moonlight; before Sir Hugh could pick himself up he had vanished through the window.

  Thirteen

  Sir Hugh swore, and got up. The noise of his fall seemed to have penetrated to the rooms above, for a door was opened, footsteps were heard flying along the passage toward his bedchamber, and Eustacie’s voice sounded, begging the landlord to wake up and come at once.

  ‘It’s only I!’ called Sir Hugh, tenderly massaging his grazed shin-bone. ‘Don’t start screeching, for the lord’s sake! Bring me a light!’

  Another door opened; Miss Thane’s voice said: ‘What was that? I thought I heard a crash!’

  ‘I dare say you did,’ returned her brother. ‘I fell over a demmed stool. Send that scoundrel Nye down here. I’ve a bone to pick with him.’

  ‘Good gracious, Hugh!’ exclaimed Miss Thane venturing half-way down the stairs, and holding up a candle. ‘What in the world are you doing there? You do not know what a fright you put me into!’

  ‘Never mind that,’ said Sir Hugh testily. ‘What I want is a light.’

  ‘My dear, you sound very cross,’ said Miss Thane, coming down the remainder of the stairs, and setting her candlestick on the table. ‘Why are you here?’ She caught sight of the curtain half-drawn back from the windows, and the casement swinging wide, and said quickly: ‘Who opened that window?’

  ‘Just what I want to ask Nye,’ replied Sir Hugh. ‘The moon awoke me, and I chanced to look out of my own window and saw this one open. I came down, and I’d no sooner got to the bottom of the stairs than a demmed fellow in a loo-mask knocked the candle out of my hand and tried to hit me on the head. No, it’s no use looking round for him: he’s gone, thanks to Nye leaving stools strewn about all over the floor.’

  Eustacie, who had come downstairs with Nye, gave a sob of fright, and stared at Miss Thane. ‘He did come!’ she said. ‘Ludovic!’ She turned on the word, and fled upstairs, calling: ‘Ludovic, Ludovic, are you safe?’

  Sir Hugh looked after her in somewhat irritated surprise. ‘French!’ he said. ‘All alike! What the devil does she want to fly into a pucker for?’

  Nye had gone over to the window and was leaning out. He turned and said: ‘The shutter’s been wrenched off its hinge, and a pane of glass cut out clean as a whistle. That’s where he must have put his hand in to open the window. You didn’t get a sight of his face, sir?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ replied Sir Hugh, stooping to pick up the dagger at his feet. ‘I keep telling you he wore a mask. A loo-mask! If there’s one thing above others that I hate it’s a lot of demmed theatrical nonsense! What was the fellow playing at? Highwaymen?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ suggested Miss Thane tactfully, ‘he did not wish to run the risk of being recognized.’

  ‘I dare say he didn’t, and it’s my belief,’ said Sir Hugh, bending a severe frown upon her, ‘that you know who he was, Sally. It has seemed to me all along that there’s a deal going on here which is devilish unusual.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ said Miss Thane, with becoming meekness. ‘I think your masked man was Ludovic’s wicked cousin come to murder him with that horrid-looking knife you have in your hand.’

  ‘There ain’t a doubt of it!’ growled Nye. ‘Look what’s here, ma’am!’ He went down on his knees as he spoke and picked fro
m under the table a scrap of lace, such as might have been ripped from a cravat, and an ornate gold quizzing-glass on a length of torn ribbon. ‘Have you ever seen that before?’

  Sir Hugh took the glass from him, and inspected it disparagingly. ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said, ‘and what’s more, I don’t like it. It’s too heavily chased.’

  Miss Thane nodded. ‘Of course I’ve seen it. But I was sure without that evidence. He must be feeling desperate indeed to have taken this risk!’

  At this moment Eustacie came downstairs again, with Ludovic behind her. Ludovic, in a dressing-gown as exotic as Thane’s, looked amused, and rather sleepy, and dangled a pistol in his right hand. His eyes alighted first on the dagger, which Thane had laid on the table, and he put up his brows with a rueful expression of incredulity, and said: ‘What, was that pretty thing meant to be plunged into my heart? Well, well! What have you got there, Thane?’

  ‘Do you recognize it?’ said Miss Thane. ‘It is your cousin’s quizzing-glass.’

  Ludovic glanced at it casually, but picked up the dagger. ‘Oh, is it? No, I can’t say I recognize it, but I dare say you’re right. To think of the Beau daring to come and tackle me with nothing better than this mediaeval weapon! It’s a damned impertinence, upon my soul it is!’

  ‘Depend upon it, he hoped to murder you while you slept, and so make no noise about it,’ said Miss Thane. ‘And do you know, for all I jested with Sir Tristram over it, I never really thought that he would come!’

  Sir Hugh looked at Ludovic and said: ‘I wish you would be serious. Do you tell me it was really your cousin here to-night?’

  ‘Oh, devil a doubt!’ answered Ludovic, testing the dagger’s sharpness with one slender forefinger.

  ‘A cousin of yours masquerading about in a loo-mask?’

  ‘Was he?’ said Ludovic, interested. ‘Lord yes, that’s Basil all over! He’d run no risk of being recognized.’