“Drop!” ejaculated the landlord. “Why, you’ve pretty near had all there is in the house!”
Mr Stubbs ventured to emerge from behind his handkerchief. “I take my solemn oath it ain’t true,” he said. “We suspicioned the lady was this Loodervic Lavenham—that’s how it come about.”
Sir Tristram looked him over critically. “That settles it: they must be badly foxed,” he remarked.
“Of course they are,” agreed Thane. “Thought my sister was a man? I never heard of anything to equal it! They’re so foxed they can’t see straight.”
Mr Peabody hastened to explain. “No, your Honour, no! It were all on account of that abigail we saw here, and which was turned off so sudden, and which we thought was the lady.”
“You are making matters worse for yourselves,” said Sir Tristram. “First you say you thought Miss Thane was Ludovic Lavenham, and now you say you thought she was my cousin’s abigail. Pray, what were you about to chase an abigail?”
“It’s as plain as a pikestaff what they were about,” said Thane severely.
“I knew she was a low, vulgar wretch!” cried Eustacie, swift to improve on this point.
The maligned Runners could only gape at her in dismay.
“Well, Wright shall know how his precious Runners conduct themselves once they are out of his reach!” promised Sir Hugh.