Джорджетт Хейер - The Talisman Ring

“Certainly not,” answered Sir Tristram. “I have no fear of Basil himself coming into the open, but you are forgetting that he has a very able deputy in the shape of that valet of his. If his servants were to catch you in the Dower House, and hand you over to the Law as a common thief, you would be identified, and beyond any man’s help, while Basil was still discreetly in London. He would dispose of you without incurring the least censure from anyone.”

“Well, they may try and take me prisoner if they like,” said Ludovic. “It’ll go hard with them if they do.”

Miss Thane regarded him in some amusement. “Yes, Ludovic, but it will make everything very awkward if you are to leave a trail of corpses in your wake,” she pointed out. “I cannot help feeling that Sir Tristram is right. He is one of those disagreeable people who nearly always are.”

Ludovic thrust out his chin a little. “I’m going to take a look in that priest’s hole if I die for it!” he said.

“If you go, you’ll go alone, Ludovic,” said Sir Tristram.

Ludovic’s eyes flashed. “Ratting, eh? I’ll get Clem in your stead.”

“You may take it from me that Clem won’t go with you on this venture,” replied Sir Tristram.

“Oh, you’ve been working on him, have you? Damn you, Tristram, I must find the ring!”

“You won’t do it that way. It’s to run your head into a noose. You’ve a better hope than this slender chance of finding the ring in a priest’s hole.”

“What is it?” Ludovic said impatiently.

“Basil’s valet,” replied Shield. “He lodged the information against you. I judge him to be fairly deep in Basil’s confidence. How deep I don’t know, but I’m doing what I can to find out.”

“I dare say he is, but what’s the odds? Depend upon it, he’s paid to keep the Beau’s secrets. Slimy rogue,” Ludovic added gloomily.

“No doubt,” agreed Shield. “So I have set Kettering to work on him. If he knows anything, you may outbid Basil.”

“Who is Kettering?” interrupted Miss Thane. “I must have everything made clear.”

“Kettering is the head groom at the Court, and one of Ludovic’s adherents. His son works for the Beau, and he is on good terms with the servants at the Dower House. If he can put it into Gregg’s head that I am collecting evidence that will make things look ugly for Basil, we may find it quite an easy matter to induce the fellow to talk. Have patience, Ludovic!”

“Oh, you’re as cautious as any old woman!” said Ludovic. “Only let me set foot in the Dower House—”

“You may believe that I am too much your friend to let you do anything of the kind,” said Sir Tristram, with finality.

Ludovic, knowing his cousin too well to attempt to argue with him once his mind was made up, said no more in support of his own plan, but left Miss Thane to entertain Shield while he went off to try his powers of persuasion upon the hapless Clem. Quite forgetting that he must not run the risk of being seen by any stranger, he walked into the taproom, saying: “Clem, are you here? I want you!”

Clem was nowhere to be seen, but just as Ludovic was about to go away again, the door on to the road opened, and a thickset man in a suit of fustian walked into the inn. Ludovic took one look at him, and ejaculated: “Abel!”

Mr Bundy shut the door behind him, and nodded. “I had word you was here,” he remarked.

Ludovic cast a quick glance towards the door leading to the kitchen quarters, where he judged Clem to be, and grasped Bundy by one wrist. “Does Nye know you’re here?” he asked softly.

“No,” replied Bundy. “Not yet he don’t, but I’m wishful to have a word with him.”

“You’re going to have a word with me,” said Ludovic. “I don’t want Nye to know you’re here. Come up to my bedchamber!”

“Adone-do, sir!” expostulated Bundy, standing fast. “You know, surely, what I’ve come for. I’ve a dunnamany kegs of brandy waiting to be delivered here so soon as Nye gives the word.”

“He won’t dare give it yet; the house is full. I’ve other work for you to do.”

Bundy looked him over. “Are you joining Dickson on board the Saucy Annie again?” he inquired.

“No; my grandfather’s dead,” said Ludovic.

“He’ll be a loss,” remarked Mr Bundy thoughtfully. “Howsever, if you’re giving up the smuggling lay, I’m tedious glad. What might you be wanting me to do?”

“Come upstairs, and I’ll tell you,” said Ludovic.

As good luck would have it, there was no one in the coffee-room. Ludovic led Bundy through it and up the stairs to the front bedchamber which had once been Miss Thane’s. It still smelled faintly exotic, a circumstance which did not escape Mr Bundy. “I thought there was a wench in it,” he observed.

Ludovic paid no heed to this sapient remark, but having locked the door, just in case Sir Tristram should take it into his head to come up to see him again before he left the inn, thrust Bundy towards a chair, and told him to sit down. “Abel, you know why I took to smuggling, don’t you?” he asked abruptly.

Mr Bundy laid his hat on the floor beside him, and nodded.

“Well, understand this!” said Ludovic. “I didn’t commit that murder.”

“Oh?” said Bundy, not particularly interested. He added after a moment’s reflection: “Happen you’ll have to prove that if you’m wishful to take the old lord’s place.”

“That’s what I mean to do,” replied Ludovic. “And you are going to help me.”

“I’m agreeable,” said Bundy. “They do tell me we shall have that cousin of yourn up at the Court, him they call the Beau. It would be unaccountable bad for the Trade if that come about. He’ll give no aid to the Gentlemen.”

“You won’t have the Beau at the Court if you help me to prove it was he committed the murder I was charged with,” said Ludovic.

Mr Bundy looked rather pleased. “That’s a rare good notion,” he approved. “Have him put away quiet same like he’d be glad to do to you. How will we set about it?”

“I believe him to have in his possession a ring which belongs to me,” Ludovic answered. “I haven’t time to explain it all to you now, but if I can find that ring, I can prove I was innocent of Plunkett’s death. I want a man to help me break into my cousin’s house tonight. You see how it is with me: that damned riding-officer winged me.”

“Ay, I heard he had,” said Bundy. “I told you you shouldn’t ought to have come.” He looked ruminatingly at Ludovic. “I don’t know as I rightly understand what you’m about. Milling kens ain’t my lay. Seems to me you’d have taken Clem along o’ you—if he’d have gone.”

“I might be able to make him, but I’ve a cousin here—a cursed, cautious, interfering cousin, who don’t mean me to make the attempt. He thinks it’s too dangerous, and it’s odds he’s persuaded Clem into seeing eye to eye with him.”

Mr Bundy scratched his nose reflectively. “One way and another, you’ve been in a lamentable deal of danger since you growed up,” he remarked.

Ludovic grinned. “I shall be in some more yet.”

“Happen you will,” agreed Bundy. “There’s some as seem to be born to it, and others as takes uncommon care of their skins. It queers me how folks manage to keep out of trouble. I never did, but I know them as has.”

“Devilish dull dogs, I’ll be bound. There may be trouble at the Dower House tonight, and for all I know there’s been a trap laid for me. Will you take the risk?”

“How I look at it is this way,” said Bundy painstakingly. “It ain’t no manner of use trying to keep out of trouble if so be you’m born to it. For why? Because if you don’t look for trouble, trouble will come a-looking for you—ah, come sneaking up behind to take you unawares, what’s more. Does Joe Nye know what’s in the wind?”

“No. He’s hand-in-glove with my cousin.”

Mr Bundy looked rather shocked. “What, with that dentical, fine gentleman?”

“Lord, no! Not with him! My cousin Shield—my cautious cousin.”

Mr Bundy stroked his chin. “I never knew Joe to be mistook in a man,” he said. “I doubt I’m doing wrong to go against his judgment. Howsever, if you’ve a fancy to go, I’d best come with you, for you’ll go anyways, unless you’ve changed your nature, which don’t seem to me likely. What’s the orders?”

“I want a horse to be saddled and bridled ready for me at midnight,” answered Ludovic promptly. “Everyone should be asleep here by then, and I can slip out. Have a couple of nags waiting down the Warninglid road, as close to this place as you can come without rousing anyone. I’ll join you there. We’ll ride to the Dower House—it’s only a matter of five miles—and once inside the place, the rest should be easy. You may want your pistols, though I’d as soon not make it a shooting affair, and we shall certainly need a lantern.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” said Bundy. “There’s only one thing as puts me into a bit of a quirk, and that’s how to keep Joe from suspicioning what we’m going to do. Joe’s not one of them as has more hair than wit: there’s a deal of sense in his cockloft.”

“He must not know you’ve been here today,” said Ludovic. “You can get away without him seeing you if I make sure all’s clear.”

“Oh ay, I can do that,” agreed Bundy, “but it’s odds they’ll tell him in the stables I’ve been around. I’ve left my nag there.”

“The devil you have! Well, you’d best see Joe if that’s so, but take care you don’t let him guess you’ve had speech with me. You might ask for me. He won’t let you see me, and it’ll look well.”

In accordance with this plan, Bundy, having been smuggled out of the inn by the back way, ten minutes later entered through the front door a second time. He found Clem in the taproom, and Clem no sooner laid eyes on him than he said that upon no account must Mr Ludovic know of his presence. He thrust him into Nye’s stuffy little private room and went off to summon the landlord. Mr Bundy sat down by the table and chewed a straw.

His interview with Nye did not take long, nor, since both men were taciturn by nature, was there much conversation. “Where’s young master?” inquired Bundy over his tankard.

Nye jerked a thumb upward. “Safe enough.”

“I reckoned you’d hide him up,” nodded Bundy, dismissing the subject.

“Ay.” The landlord regarded him thoughtfully. “He’s ripe for mischief, I can tell you. Maybe you’d best keep out of his way. You’re as bad as Clem for letting him twist you round his finger.”

“Happen you’m right,” conceded Bundy, retiring into his tankard.

Sir Tristram did not wait for Ludovic to reappear, and for obvious reasons Nye did not tell him of Bundy’s presence in the inn. He had a great value for Sir Tristram, but he preferred to keep his dealings with free traders as secret as possible. So Sir Tristram, having extracted a promise from Clem not to assist Ludovic to leave the inn that night, departed, secure in the conviction that without support his reckless young cousin could achieve nothing in the way of house-breaking.

“I am afraid we shall have Ludovic like a bear with a sore head,” prophesied Miss Thane pessimistically.

But when Ludovic came downstairs to the parlour again, he seemed to be in unimpaired spirits, a circumstance which at first relieved Miss Thane’s mind, and presently filled it with misgiving. She fancied that the sparkle in Ludovic’s angelic blue eyes was more pronounced than usual, and after enduring it for some while, was impelled to comment upon it, though in an indirect fashion. She said that she feared that Sir Tristram’s decision must be unwelcome to him. She was embroidering a length of silk at the time, but as she spoke she raised her eyes from her task and looked steadily at him.

“Oh well!” said Ludovic. “I’ve been thinking it over, and I dare say he may be in the right of it.”

Voice and countenance were both quite grave, but Miss Thane was unable to rid herself of the suspicion that he was secretly amused. He met her searching look with the utmost limpidity, and after a moment smiled, and reminded her that it was uncivil to stare.

She was quite unable to resist his smile, which was indeed a very charming one, but she said in a serious tone: “It would be useless if you were to make the attempt alone, you know. You would not do anything so foolish, would you?”

“Oh, I’m not as mad as that!” he assured her.

She lowered her embroidery. “And you would not—no, of course you would not!—take Eustacie upon such a venture?”

“Good God, no! I’ll swear it, if you wish.”

She resumed her stitchery, and as her brother came into the room at that moment said no more. When, later, Ludovic discussed exhaustively the various means by which the Beau’s valet might be induced to disclose what he knew, she concluded that her suspicions had been unfounded; and when, midway through the evening, he sat down to play piquet with Sir Hugh she felt herself able to retire to bed with a quiet mind. She had seen him play piquet before, and she knew that once a green baize cloth was before him, and a pack of cards in his hand, all other considerations were likely to be forgotten. Neither he nor Sir Hugh, she judged, would seek their beds until the small hours, by which time he would be too sleepy, and not sufficiently clear-headed (for it was safe to assume that a good deal of wine would flow during the course of the play) to attempt anything in the way of a solitary adventure. He bade her a preoccupied good night, and she went away without the least misgiving. She was not, however, privileged to see the swift, sidelong look he shot at her as she went through the doorway.