She laughed. “Can I not persuade you to remain a little while? This has been a very fleeting visit. Do you not find it dull alone at the Court?”
“Very, but I am not going to the Court. I am on my way to Brighton, to talk to the Beau’s late butler.”
She said approvingly: “You may be shockingly cross, but you are certainly not idle. Tell me about this butler!”
“There is nothing to tell as yet. He was in the Beau’s employment at the time of Plunkett’s murder, and it occurred to me some days ago that it might be interesting to trace him, and discover what he can remember of the Beau’s movements upon that night.”
This scheme, though it would not have appealed to Eustacie, who preferred her plans to be attended by excitement, seemed eminently practical to Miss Thane. She parted from Sir Tristram very cordially, and went back into the parlour to tell Ludovic that although he might still be unable to do anything towards his reinstatement, his cousin had the matter well in hand.
As she had expected, Eustacie did not regard Sir Tristram’s errand with much favour. She said that it was very well for Tristram, but for herself she preferred that there should be adventure.
But upon the following morning, when Miss Thane had gone out with her brother for a sedate walk, adventure took Eustacie unawares and in a guise that frightened her a good deal more than she liked.
She was seated in the parlour, waiting for Ludovic, who was dressing, to come downstairs, when the mail coach from London arrived. She heard it draw up outside the inn, but paid no attention to it, for it was a daily occurrence, and the coach only stopped at the Red Lion to change horses. But a minute or two later Clem put his head into the room, and said, his face as white as his shirt: “It’s the Runners, miss!”
Eustacie’s embroidery-frame slipped out of her hands. She gazed at Clem in horror, and stammered: “The B-Bow Street Runners?”
“Yes, miss, I’m telling you! And there’s Mr Ludovic trapped upstairs, and Mr Nye not in!” said Clem, wringing his hands.