“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 tomorrow’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 alehouse. 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 this 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?”