Sir Hugh swore, and got up. The noise of his fall seemed to have penetrated to the rooms above, for a door was opened, footsteps were heard flying along the passage towards his bedchamber, and Eustacie’s voice sounded, begging the landlord to wake up and come at once.
“It’s only I!” called Sir Hugh, tenderly massaging his grazed shinbone. “Don’t start screeching, for the lord’s sake! Bring me a light.”
Another door opened; Miss Thane’s voice said: “What was that? I thought I heard a crash!”
“I dare say you did,” returned her brother. “I fell over a demmed stool. Send that scoundrel Nye down here. I’ve a bone to pick with him.”
“Good gracious, Hugh!” exclaimed Miss Thane venturing halfway down the stairs, and holding up a candle. “What in the world are you doing there? You do not know what a fright you put me into!”
“Never mind that,” said Sir Hugh testily. “What I want is a light.”
“My dear, you sound very cross,” said Miss Thane, coming down the remainder of the stairs, and setting her candlestick on the table. “Why are you here?” She caught sight of the curtain half drawn back from the windows, and the casement swinging wide, and said quickly: “Who opened that window?”
“Just what I want to ask Nye,” replied Sir Hugh. “The moon woke me, and I chanced to look out of my own window and saw this one open. I came down, and I’d no sooner got to the bottom of the stairs than a demmed fellow in a loo-mask knocked the candle out of my hand and tried to hit me on the head. No, it’s no use looking round for him: he’s gone, thanks to Nye leaving stools strewn about all over the floor.”
Eustacie, who had come downstairs with Nye, gave a sob of fright, and stared at Miss Thane. “He did come!” she said. “Ludovic! “ She turned on the word, and fled upstairs, calling: “Ludovic, Ludovic, are you safe?”
Sir Hugh looked after her in somewhat irritated surprise. “French! “ he said. “All alike! What the devil does she want to fly into a pucker for?”