The Talisman Ring

Ludovic handed it to him. “Yes, it’s one of Manton’s. I’ve a pair of his duelling pistols, too—beautiful pieces of work!”

Sir Hugh subjected the pistol to a careful inspection. “Myself I don’t care for silver sights. Apt to dazzle the eye.” He sighted along the pistol. “Nice balance, but too short in the barrel. No accuracy over twelve yards.”

Ludovic’s eye gleamed. “Do you think so? I’ll engage to culp a wafer at twenty!”

“With this gun?” said Sir Hugh incredulously.

“With that gun.”

“I’ll lay you a pony you don’t.”

“Done!” said Ludovic promptly.

“And where,” inquired Miss Thane, “do you propose to hold this contest?”

“Oh, in the yard!” said Ludovic, receiving the pistol back from Sir Hugh.

“That, of course, will be very nice,” said Miss Thane politely. “The ostlers will thus be able to see you. I forbid you to encourage him, Hugh. Let us admit that he is a crack shot, and be done with it.”

“Well, I am a crack shot,” said Ludovic, smiling most disarmingly up at her.

“Talking of crack shots,” said Sir Hugh, “what was the name of the fellow who put out all the candles in the big chandelier at Mrs Archer’s once? There were fifteen of them, and he never missed one!”

“Fifteen?” said Ludovic. “Sixteen!”

“Fifteen was what I was told. He did it for a wager.”

“That’s true enough, but I tell you there were sixteen candles!”

Sir Hugh shook his head. “You’ve got that wrong. Fifteen.”

“Damn it, I ought to know!” said Ludovic. “I did it!”

“You did it?” Sir Hugh regarded him with renewed interest. “You mean to tell me you are the man who shot the wicks off fifteen candles at Mrs Archer’s?”

“I shot the wicks off sixteen candles!” said Ludovic.

“Well, all I can say is that it was devilish fine shooting,” said Sir Hugh. “But are you sure you have the figure right? I rather fancy fifteen was the number.”

“Where’s Tristram?” demanded Ludovic of Miss Thane. “He was there! Sixteen candles I shot. I used my Mantons, and Jerry Matthews loaded for me.”

“I don’t know him,” remarked Sir Hugh. “Would he be a son of old Frederick Matthews?”

Miss Thane at this point withdrew to summon Sir Tristram. When she returned with him she found that the question of Mr Jerry Matthew’s parentage had led inexplicably to an argument on the precise nature of a certain bet entered in the book at White’s three years before. The argument was broken off as soon as Sir Tristram entered the room, for Ludovic at once commanded him to say whether he had put out fifteen or sixteen candles at Mrs Archer’s house.

“I don’t remember,” replied Sir Tristram. “All I remember is that you shattered a big mirror to smithereens and brought the Watch in on us.”

Sir Hugh, who was looking fixedly at Sir Tristram, said suddenly, and with a pleased air: “Shield! That’s who you are! Recognized you at once. What’s more, I know where I saw you last.”

Sir Tristram shook hands with him. “At Mendoza’s fight with Warr last year,” he said, without hesitation. “I recall that you were on the roof of the coach next to my curricle.”

“That’s it!” said Thane. “A grand turn-up! Did you see Dan’s last fight with Humphries? A couple of years ago that would be, or maybe three.”

“I saw him beat Humphries twice, and I was at the Fitzgerald turn-up in ‘91.”

“You were? Then tell me this—Was Fitzgerald shy, or was he not?”

“Not shy, no. Rather glaringly abroad once or twice, I thought.”

“He was, was he? I’m glad to know that, because—”

“If you are going to talk about prizefights, I’ll leave you,” interposed Miss Thane.

“No, don’t do that,” said Ludovic. “I’m not interested in prizefights. By-the-by, did you find that panel?”

This casual reference to her morning’s labour made Miss Thane reply tartly: “No, Ludovic, we did not

find that panel.”

“I didn’t think you would,” he said.

Miss Thane appeared to struggle with emotions. Her brother, showing a faint interest in what he had caught of the conversation, said sympathetically: “Lost something?”

“No, dear,” replied Sarah, with awful calm. “It is Lord Lavenham who has lost a talisman ring. I told you all about it three days ago. He lost it at play one night at the Cocoa-Tree.”

“I do remember you telling me some rigmarole or another,” admitted Thane. “If you want my advice, Lavenham, you won’t play at the Cocoa-Tree. I met a Captain Sharp there myself once. Hazard it was, and the dice kept running devilish high. I’d my suspicions of them from the start, and sure enough they were up-hills.”

“Oh, the play was fair enough,” said Ludovic indifferently.

“What I’m telling you is that it wasn’t,” said Sir Hugh, patient but obstinate. “I split the dice myself, and found ’em loaded.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. My game was piquet. Never played hazard at the Cocoa-Tree in my life. I used to play at Almack’s, and Brooks’s, of course.”

“Very high going at Brooks’s,” said Thane, with a reflective shake of the head.