“There’s no light showing in any window that I can see,” reported Ludovic. “Now, the Beau told my cautious cousin that the bolt was off one of the library casements, and as that’s the room I fancy I want, we’ll risk a trap and try to get in by that window.” He drew the pistol from his boot as he spoke, and said: “If there is a trap this is our best safeguard. In these parts they believe I can’t miss, and it makes ’em wary of tackling me. If they mean to capture me they’ll try to take me unawares.”
“Well,” said Bundy judicially, “I’m bound to say I disremember when I’ve seen you miss your target.”
Ludovic gave a short laugh. “I missed an owl once, the fool that I was!”
Bundy looked at him with disapproval. “What would you want to go shooting owls for, anyways?”
“Drunk,” said Ludovic briefly. “Now, get this into your head, Abel! If we walk into a trap it’s one laid for me, not for you, and I’ll save myself. Get yourself out of it, and don’t trouble your head over me. All I want you to do is to help me to get into the house.”
Mr Bundy arose from the tree-stump and picked up the lantern, vouchsafing no reply.
“Understand?” said Ludovic, a ring of authority in his voice.
“Oh ay!” said Bundy. “But there! When I see trouble I’m tedious likely to get to in-fighting with it. If you take my advice, which I never known you do yet, you’ll turn up that coat collar of yourn, and pull your hat over your face. You don’t want no one to reckernize you.”
Ludovic followed this sage counsel, but remarked that he had little expectation of being known. “The valet would know me, if he’s there, but the butler is since my time.”
“Maybe,” said Bundy. “But I’ll tell you to your head what I’ve said a-many times behind your back, Master Ludovic, which is that you’ve got a bowsprit that’s the spit and image of the old lord’s.”