The Talisman Ring

In the morning she awoke before Eustacie, and got up out of bed without disturbing her. As soon as she was dressed she went along the passage to her brother’s room, and found him sitting up in bed, with his night-cap still on, being waited on by the tapster, who seemed to combine his calling with the duties of a general factotum. A tray piled high with dishes was placed on a table by the bed: Sir Hugh was breakfasting.

He gave his sister a sleepy smile as she entered the room, and, of habit rather than of necessity, picked up his quizzing-glass, and through it inspected a plate of grilled ham and eggs from which Clem had lifted the cover. He nodded, and Clem heaved a sigh of relief.

Miss Thane, taking in at a glance the proportions of this breakfast, shook her head, and said: “My dear, you must be very unwell indeed! Only one plate of ham, and those few wretched slices of beef to follow! How paltry!”

Sir Hugh, accustomed like so many large men to being a butt, received this sally with unruffled placidity, and waved Clem away. The tapster went out, and Miss Thane thoughtfully handed her brother the mustard. “What are your engagements in town, Hugo?”

Sir Hugh reflected while masticating a mouthful of ham. “Have I any?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t know, Should you mind remaining here for a time?”

“Not while the Chambertin lasts,” replied Sir Hugh simply. He consumed another mouthful, and added: “It’s my belief the liquor in this place never paid duty at any port.”

“No, I think it was probably all smuggled,” agreed Miss Thane. “I met a smuggler last night, when you had gone to bed.”

“Oh, did you?” Sir Hugh washed down the ham with a draught of ale, and emerged from the tankard to say, as a thought occurred to him: “You ought to be more careful. Where did you meet him?”

“He arrived at the inn, very late, and wounded. He’s here now.”

A faint interest gleamed in Sir Hugh’s eye. He lowered his fork. “Did he bring anything with him?”

“Yes, a lady,” said Miss Thane.

“No sense in that,” said Sir Hugh, his interest fading. He went on eating, but added in a moment: “Couldn’t have been a smuggler.”

“He is a smuggler, a nobleman, and one of the most handsome young men I have ever clapped eyes on,” said Miss Thane. “Tell me now, did you ever hear of one Ludovic Lavenham?”

“No,” said Sir Hugh, exchanging his empty plate for one covered with slices of cold beef.

“Are you sure, Hugo? He was used to play cards at the Cocoa-Tree—rather a wild youth, I apprehend.”

“They fuzz the cards at the Cocoa-Tree,” said Sir Hugh. “It’s full of Greeks. Foulest play in town.”

“This boy lost a valuable ring at play there, and was afterwards accused of having shot the man he played against,” persisted Miss Thane.

“I was very nearly done-up myself there once,” said Sir Hugh reminiscently. “Found a regular Captain Sharp at the table, thought the dice ran devilish queerly—”

“Yes, dear, but do you remember?”

“Of course I remember. Sent for a hammer, split the dice, and found they were up-hills, just as I’d expected.”

“No, not that,” said Miss Thane patiently. “Do you recall this other affair?”

“What other affair?”

Miss Thane sighed, and began painstakingly to recount all that Eustacie had told her. Sir Hugh listened to her with an expression of considerable bewilderment, and at the end shook his head. “It sounds a demmed silly story to me,” he said. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

When it was conveyed to him that his sister had pledged herself to assist these strangers in whatever perilous course they might decide to adopt he at first protested as forcibly as a man of his natural indolence could be expected to, and finally begged her not to embroil him in any crazy adventure.

“I won’t,” promised Miss Thane. “But you must swear an oath of secrecy, Hugh!”

Sir Hugh laid down his knife and fork. “Sally, what the deuce is all this about?” he demanded.

She laughed. “My dear, I’ve scarcely any more notion than you have. But I am quite sure of my clear duty, which is to chaperone the little heroine. Moreover, I admit to a slight feeling of curiosity to see the wicked cousin. I am at present at a loss to decide whether Sir Tristram Shield is the villain of the piece or merely a plain man goaded to madness.”

“Shield?” repeated Sir Hugh. “Member of Brooks’s?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“If he’s the man I’m thinking of he hunts with the Quorn. Bruising rider to hounds. Good man in a turn-up, too.”

“This sounds very promising,” said Miss Thane.

“Spars with Mendoza,” pursued Sir Hugh. “If he’s the man, I’ve met him at Mendoza’s place. But I dare say I’m thinking of someone else.”

“What is he like?” inquired Miss Thane.

“I’ve told you,” said Sir Hugh, buttering a slice of bread. “He’s got a right,” he added helpfully.

Miss Thane gave it up, and went back to her own bedchamber to see how her protйgйe did.