It was not long before Nye returned, this time alone. He found Eustacie peeping out of the window at the receding forms of the two officers, and Ludovic, the mob-cap and shawl already discarded, trying to extricate himself from Miss Thane’s gown. Characteristically, the first words he addressed to Ludovic were of decided reproof. ‘And who might those clothes belong to, my lord, if I may make so bold as to ask?’
‘To Miss Thane, of course. Help me to come out of this curst dress!’
‘And that’s a nice thing!’ said Nye. ‘Couldn’t you find nothing else to break but a flask of scent that don’t belong to you? For shame, Mr Ludovic!’
Eustacie came away from the window. ‘Enfin, they are gone. Do they believe that my cousin is not here, Nye?’
‘That’s more than I can tell you, miss,’ replied Nye, picking up Miss Thane’s dress from the floor. ‘Nor I don’t think they’ve gone far. They would have put up here for the night if I hadn’t shown them that I haven’t a bed to spare. It’s my belief they’re off no farther than to the ale-house down the road.’
‘Do you mean to tell me those fellows are going to hang around this place?’ said Ludovic, himself again in shirt and breeches. ‘Who set them on?’
Nye shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t say. The fat one don’t seem to me to set much store by the information. But for all that, I’ll have the cellar made ready for you, sir.’
‘Make it ready for the Runners,’ said Ludovic briskly. ‘We’ll have to kidnap them.’
‘There’ll be no such foolishness in this house, Mr Ludovic, and so I’ll have you know!’
Some twenty minutes later Miss Thane, accompanied by her brother, came back to the Red Lion, and was at once met by Eustacie, who drew her upstairs to her room, her story tripping off her tongue.
‘Runners in the house, and I not here to see them?’ exclaimed Miss Thane, suitably impressed. ‘I declare I am the most ill-used creature alive! How I should have liked to have helped to hoodwink them!’
‘Yes, it was very sad for you to be out, but you did help us, Sarah, because Ludovic put on one of your dresses, and pretended to be my maid.’
They had by this time reached Miss Thane’s bedchamber. Eustacie opened the door and Miss Thane took one step into the room and recoiled.
‘It’s only the scent,’ said Eustacie kindly. ‘And indeed it is already much fainter that it was. Ludovic thought that it would be a good thing to break the bottle, pretending that it was mine. In that way, you understand, he was able to hide his face, because he made believe to cry, and to be frightened. And I scolded him – oh, à faire croire !’
‘I’m glad,’ said Miss Thane. ‘I suppose it had to be my French perfume?’
Ludovic, hearing their voices, strolled across the passage from his own room, and said with a grin: ‘Sarah, are you savage with me for having spilled your scent? I will buy you some more one day.’
‘Thank you, Ludovic!’ said Miss Thane with feeling. ‘And this is the gown you chose to wear, is it? Yes, I see. After all, I never cared for it above the ordinary.’
‘It got split a trifle across the shoulders,’ explained Ludovic.
‘Yes, I noticed that,’ agreed Miss Thane. ‘But what is a mere gown compared with a man’s life?’
Eustacie greeted this sentiment with great approval, and said that she knew Sarah would feel like that.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Thane. ‘And I have been thinking, moreover, that we do not consider Ludovic enough. Look at this large, airy apartment of mine, for instance, and only consider the stuffy little back chamber he is obliged to sleep in! I will change with you, my dear Ludovic.’
Ludovic declined this handsome offer without the least hesitation. ‘I don’t like the smell of the scent,’ he said frankly.
Miss Thane, overcome by her emotions, tottered to a chair and covered her eyes with her hand. In a voice of considerable feeling she gave Ludovic to understand that since he had saturated the carpet in her room with scent, he and not she should sleep in that exotic atmosphere.
The rest of the day was enlivened by alarms and discussions. The Runners had, as Nye suspected, withdrawn merely to the ale-house a mile down the road, and both of them revisited the Red Lion at separate times, entering it in the most unobtrusive, not to say stealthy, manner possible, and explaining their presence in unexpected corners of the house by saying that they were looking for the landlord. The excuses they put forward for these visits, though not convincing, were accepted by Nye with obliging complaisance. Secure in the knowledge that Ludovic was hidden in his secret cellar, he gave the Runners all the facilities they could desire to prowl unaccompanied about the house. The only person to be dissatisfied with this arrangement was the quarry himself who, in spite of the amenities afforded by a brazier and a couple of candles, complained that the cellar was cold, dark, and devilish uncomfortable. His plan of remaining above-stairs in readiness to retreat to the cellar upon the arrival of a Runner was frustrated by the tiresome conduct of these gentlemen, who seemed to spend the entire afternoon prowling around the house. Twice Eustacie was startled by an inquiring face at the parlour-window, and three times did Clem report that one of the officers was round the back of the house by the stables, hobnobbing with the ostler and the post-boys. Even Sir Hugh became aware of an alien presence in the inn, and complained when he came down to dinner that a strange fellow had poked his head into his bedchamber while he was pulling off his boots.
‘A demmed, rascally-looking fellow with a red nose,’ he said. ‘Nye ought to be more careful whom he lets into the place. Came creeping up the passage and peered into my room without so much as a “by your leave.”’
‘Did he say anything to you?’ asked Miss Thane anxiously.
‘No,’ replied Sir Hugh. He added fair-mindedly: ‘I don’t say he wouldn’t have, but I threw a boot at him.’
‘Threw a boot at him?’ cried Eustacie, her eyes sparkling.
‘Yes, why not? I don’t like people prowling about, and I won’t have them poking their red noses into my room,’ said Sir Hugh.
‘Hugh, you will have to know, so that you may be on your guard,’ said Miss Thane. ‘That was a Bow Street Runner.’
‘Well, he’s got no right to come prying into my room,’ replied Sir Hugh, helping himself from a dish of beans. ‘Where’s young Lavenham?’
‘In the cellar. He –’
Sir Hugh laid down his knife and fork. ‘What’s he found there? Is he bringing it up?’
‘No. He is in the cellar because the Runners are looking for him.’
Sir Hugh frowned. ‘It seems to me,’ he remarked somewhat austerely, ‘that there’s something queer going on in this place. I won’t have anything to do with it.’
‘Very proper, my dear,’ approved his sister. ‘But do contrive to remember that you know nothing of Ludovic Lavenham! I fear that these Runners may try to get information from you.’
‘Oh, they may, may they?’ said Sir Hugh, his eye kindling a little. ‘Well, if that red-nosed fellow is a Runner, which I doubt, I’ll have some information to give him on the extent of his duty. They’re getting mighty out of hand, those Runners. I shall speak to old Sampson Wright about ’em.’
‘Certainly, Hugh; I hope you will, but do, pray, promise me that you won’t divulge Ludovic’s presence here to them!’
‘I’m a Justice of the Peace,’ said Sir Hugh, ‘and I won’t have any hand in cheating the Law. If they were to ask me I should tell them the truth.’
Eustacie, pale with alarm, gripped the edge of the table, and said: ‘But you must not! you shall not!’
Sir Hugh cast an indulgent glance towards her. ‘They won’t ask me,’ he said simply.
It seemed improbable that the Runners’ zeal would lead them to haunt the vicinity of the Red Lion after dark, so as soon as the wind
ows were bolted and the blinds drawn, Ludovic emerged from his underground retreat and joined the rest of the party in the parlour. Some expectation was felt of receiving a visit from Sir Tristram, and at a little after eight o’clock he walked into the inn, having taken advantage of the moonlight to drive over from the Court.
He was met by demands to know whether he had met any men lurking outside the house. He had not, but the anxious question at once aroused his suspicions, and he asked what had been going forward during his absence. When he heard that information had been laid against Ludovic in Bow Street, he did not say anything at all for some moments, thus disappointing Eustacie, who had hoped to startle him into an expression at least of surprise. When he did speak, it was not in admiration of the stratagem which had hoodwinked the Runners, but in a serious voice, and with his eyes on his cousin. ‘If you won’t go to Holland, will you at least leave Sussex, Ludovic?’
‘Devil a bit! There’s no danger. The Runners think they’re on a wild-goose chase.’ He observed a tightening of Shield’s lips, a certain considering look in the eyes which rested on himself, and sat up with a jerk. ‘Tristram, if you try to kidnap me, I swear I’ll shoot you!’
Sir Tristram laughed at that, but shook his head. ‘I won’t promise not to kidnap you, but I will promise to get your gun first.’
‘It never leaves me,’ grinned Ludovic.
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ retorted Shield. ‘If there’s an attempt made on you, you’ll shoot, and there’ll be a charge of real murder to fight.’
Eustacie said sharply: ‘An attempt on him? Do you mean on his life?’
‘Yes, I do,’ replied Shield. ‘We may not be certain that the Beau killed Plunkett, but we can have no doubt that it is he who has brought the Runners down on Ludovic now. He would like the Law to remove Ludovic from his path, but if the Runners fail, I think he may make the attempt himself. Have you considered how easy of access this place is?’
Eustacie cast an involuntary glance over his shoulder. ‘N-no,’ she faltered. ‘Is – is it easy? Perhaps you had better go after all, Ludovic. I do not want you to be killed!’
‘Ah, fiddlesticks,’ Ludovic said impatiently. ‘The Beau don’t even know I’m here. He may suspect it, but there’s not a soul has seen me outside ourselves, and Nye, and Clem.’
‘You are forgetting the Excise officer,’ interrupted his cousin.
‘What odds? I’ll admit it was he who put the notion into Basil’s head, but it’s no more than a notion, and when Basil hears the Runners found no trace of me, he’ll think himself mistaken, after all. Nye’s of the opinion they don’t set much store by the information laid.’
‘It’s plain they set very little store by it, since they didn’t send their best men down to investigate it, but they are likely to take a more serious view of the matter when they discover that Eustacie has no abigail with her.’
‘Ludovic,’ said Miss Thane in a meditative voice, ‘thinks it would be a good thing to capture the Runners and bestow them in the cellar.’
‘A famous plan!’ said Sir Tristram sardonically.
‘Yes, but me, I do not agree,’ said Eustacie, frowning.
‘You surprise me.’
‘Just a moment!’ interposed Thane, who all the time had been sitting at a small table by the fire, casting his dice, right hand against left. ‘You can’t imprison law officers in the cellar. For one thing, it’s a criminal offence, and for another there’s a deal of precious liquor in the cellar. I don’t like that red-nosed fellow; I think he ought to be got rid of. What’s more, I’ve had a score against Sampson Wright for a long time, and I don’t mind putting a spoke in his wheel. But I won’t have his Runners kidnapped.’
‘Well!’ said his sister. ‘I think you are most unreasonable, Hugh, I must say. After all, it was you who threw a boot at the Runner.’
‘That’s a very different thing,’ replied Thane. ‘There’s nothing to be said against throwing a boot at a fellow who comes nosing into one’s room. But kidnapping’s another matter.’
‘Oh well!’ said Ludovic airily. ‘Ten to one we shan’t see any more of them. I dare say they will go back to London on to-morrow’s coach.’
Had Mr Stubbs followed his own inclination, he would not have waited for the morrow’s coach but would have boarded the night mail, deeming a night on the road preferable to one spent at the ale-house. But his companion, a grave person with a painstaking sense of duty and an earnest desire to prove himself worthy of his office, held to the opinion that their search had not been sufficiently thorough.
‘What we’ve done is, we’ve Lulled them,’ he said, slowly nodding his head. ‘Properly Lulled them, that’s what we’ve done. We didn’t find no trace of any desperate criminal, and they know we didn’t find no trace. So what happens?’
‘Well, what does happen?’ said Mr Stubbs, lowering his tankard.
‘They’re Lulled, that’s what happens.’
‘You said that before,’ remarked Mr Stubbs, with slight asperity.
‘Ah, but what do we do now we’ve got them Lulled?’ demanded his companion. ‘We makes a Pounce, and takes this Ludovic Lavenham unawares.’
Mr Stubbs turned it over in his mind. ‘I won’t say you’re wrong, William,’ he pronounced cautiously. ‘Nor I’ve no objection, provided we do take him unawares. It’s a queer thing, but I can’t get out of my mind what that French hussy told me about Loodervic being so handy with his pops. It makes things awkward. I won’t say no more than that. Awkward.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said the zealous Mr Peabody, ‘and the conclusion I’ve come to, Jerry, is that she made it up out of her head just for to scare you.’
For a moment Mr Stubbs pondered this. Then he said somewhat severely: ‘She should ha’ known better.’ He took a pull at his ale, and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, added: ‘Mind you, I’ve had my doubts about it all along. Sixteen candles is what she said. Now, I put it to you, William, is that a likely story?’
Mr Peabody gave it as his opinion that it was a most unlikely story. They discussed the question for a little while, Mr Stubbs contending that had Eustacie spoken of six candles, he might have believed her, and Mr Peabody, a more practical man, distrusting the entire story on the grounds that there was no sense in firing at candles at all.
They had, by these divergent paths, arrived at the same comfortable conclusion when their privacy was disturbed by the arrival of a visitor, who turned to be none other than Gregg, Beau Lavenham’s discreet valet. He came into the tap-room with a prim little bow and a tight-lipped smile, and ordered a brandy with hot water and lemon. Until this had been procured for him, he stayed by the bar, only glancing once out of the corners of his eyes at the two Runners snugly ensconced in the inglenook by the fire. When his glass had been handed to him, however, he walked over to the fireplace drew up a chair close to a high-backed settle, and bade the Runners good evening.
They returned this civil greeting without showing any marked degree of cordiality. They were aware that he was the man to whom they were indebted for what information they had, but although they would be grateful for any further information that he might be able to give them, they had a prejudice against informers as a race, and saw no reason to make an exception in this one’s favour. Accordingly, when Gregg leaned forward in his chair, and said in a keen but subdued voice: ‘Well?’ it was in chilly accents that Mr Stubbs replied: ‘It ain’t well. We’ve been fetched down for nothing, that’s what.’
‘So you didn’t find him!’ said Gregg, frowning.
‘Nor him, nor any sign of him. Which I will say didn’t surprise me.’
‘But he was there, for all that,’ said Gregg, tapping his front teeth with one finger-nail. ‘I am sure he was there. You looked everywhere?’
‘There now!’ said Mr Stubbs, with scat
hing irony. ‘If you haven’t put me in mind of it! Dang me, if I didn’t forget to look inside of one of the coal-boxes!’
Gregg, perceiving that he had offended, smiled and made a deprecating movement with his hand. ‘It is an old house, and full of nooks and hidden cupboards. You are sure – I expect you are sure – that he had no opportunity to seek safety in the cellars?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mr Stubbs. ‘I am sure. By the time I was in by the front door, Mr Peabody here was in by the back. And not so much of a sniff of any criminal did we get. What’s more, we had very nice treatment from the landlord, very nice indeed we had. There are plenty as would have behaved different, but Mr Nye, he made no bones at all. “It’s not what I like,” he says, “but I don’t blame you, nor I’m not one to stand in the way of an officer what is only executing his dooty.”’
The valet’s light eyes flickered from one stolid face to the other. ‘He had him hidden. When I went he was not hidden. The tapster would not let me set foot outside the tap-room. They did not wish me to go anywhere inside the house. It was most marked.’
‘That don’t surprise me,’ said Mr Stubbs. He put his empty tankard down and regarded the valet narrowly. ‘What’s the interest in this Loodervic Lavenham? What makes you so unaccountable anxious to have him laid by the heels?’