The Talisman Ring

“Eustacie has persuaded him to stay in bed this morning. Five miles to the Dower House, and five miles back again, with an adventure between, was a trifle too much for one little better than an invalid. Do you care to go up? You will find Hugh with him, I think.”

He nodded, and waited for her by the door, and when she seemed not to be coming, said: “You do not mean to secede from our councils, I hope?”

She smiled. “You are not used to be so civil. Fighting must have a mellowing effect upon you, I think.”

“Have I been uncivil?” he asked, looking at her with disconcerting seriousness.

“Well, perhaps not uncivil,” she conceded. “Just disapproving.”

He followed her out of the room, and as they mounted the stairs, said: “I wish you will rid yourself of this nonsensical notion that I disapprove of you.”

“But do you not?” inquired Miss Thane, turning her head.

He stopped two stairs below her, and stood looking up at her, something not quite a smile at the back of his eyes. “Sometimes,” he said.

They found Ludovic drinking Constantia wine, and arguing with Sir Hugh about the propriety of breaking into other people’s houses to recover one’s own property. Eustacie, seated by the window, upheld the justice of his views, but strongly condemned the insensibility of persons who allowed others to sleep while such adventures were in train. She was rash enough to appeal to her cousin Tristram for support, but as he only replied that he had not till now thought that he had anything to be thankful for with regard to last night’s affair, he joined Miss Thane in her ill-graces.

Ludovic’s immediate desire was to learn from his cousin by what means he now proposed to find the talisman ring, but they had not been discussing the matter for more than five minutes when a chaise was heard approaching at a smart pace down the road. It drew up outside the inn, and Eustacie, peeping over the blind, announced in a shocked voice that its occupant was none other than Beau Lavenham.

“What audacity!” exclaimed Miss Thane.

“Yes, and he is wearing a waistcoat with coquelicot stripes,” said Eustacie.

“What!” ejaculated Ludovic. “Here, where’s my dressing-gown? I must take a look at him!”

“Oh no, you must not!” said Sir Tristram, preventing his attempt to leap out of bed.

“It is too late: he has entered the house. What can he want?”

“Probably to convince us that he was really in London last night,” said Shield. “We’ll go down to him, Eustacie.”

“Je le veux bien! What shall I say to him?”

“Whatever you please, as long as it does not concern Ludovic.” He looked across the room at Miss Thane. “Do you think you can contrive to be as stupid and talkative as you were when he last saw you?”

“Oh, am I allowed to take part?” asked Miss Thane. “Certainly I can be as stupid. To what purpose?”

“Well, I think it is time we frightened Basil a little,” said Sir Tristram. “Since he must now be very sure that Ludovic is in Sussex, we will further inform him that we suspect him of being Plunkett’s real murderer.”

“That’s all very well,” objected Ludovic, “but what do you expect him to do?”

“I haven’t a notion,” said Shield calmly, “but I am reasonably certain that he will do something.”

“Tell me what you wish me to say!” begged Miss Thane.

Beau Lavenham was not kept waiting long in the parlour. In a very few minutes his cousins joined him there. He shot a quick, searching look at them under his lashes, and advanced, all smiles and civility. “My dear Eustacie—Tristram, too! You behold me on my way home from a most tedious, disagreeable sojourn in town. I could not resist the opportunity of paying a morning call upon you. I trust I do not come at an awkward time?”

“But no!” said Eustacie, opening her eyes at him. ‘Why should it be?”

Sir Tristram came over to the fire in a leisurely fashion, and stirred it with his foot. “Oh, so you’ve not yet been home, Basil?” he inquired.

“No, not yet,” replied the Beau. He put up his ornate quizzing-glass, and through it looked at Shield. “Why do you ask me so oddly, my dear fellow? Is anything amiss at the Dower House?”

“Something very much amiss, I am afraid,” said Shield. He waited for a moment, saw the flash of eagerness in the Beau’s eyes, and added: “One of your Jacobean chairs has been broken.”

There was a moment’s silence. The Beau let his glass fall, and replied in rather a mechanical voice: “A chair broken? Why, how is that?”

The door opened to admit Miss Thane. Until she had exclaimed at finding the Beau present, greeted him, inquired after his health, the condition of the roads, and the state of the weather in London, there was no opportunity of reverting to the original subject of conversation. But as soon as she paused for breath the Beau turned back to Shield, and said: “You were telling me something about one of my chairs being broken. I fear I don’t—”