“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.