“Yes, that is true,” acknowledged Eustacie, “but some of it was not very comfortable. And I must say that I am not at all pleased that it is you who have found the ring, because you did not want to have an adventure, or to do anything romantic. It seems to me very unfair.”
“So it is!” said Miss Thane, much struck by this point of view. “It is quite odious, my love, for who could have been more disagreeable, or more discouraging? Really, it would have been better in some ways had we insisted upon his remaining the villain.”
Sir Tristram smiled a little at this, but in rather an abstracted way, and said: “It’s very well, but we are not yet out of our difficulties. Let me have the ring, Ludovic. It is true that we have found it, but we did not find it in the Beau’s possession. Oh, don’t look so dubious, my dear boy! I shan’t lose it.”
“Ah!” said Miss Thane, nodding wisely. “One has to remember, after all, that you are a collector of such things. I don’t blame him, I dare say it is all a Plot.”
“Sarah, you’re outrageous!” said Ludovic, handing the ring across the table to his cousin. “For God’s sake be careful with it, won’t you, Tristram? What do you mean to do?”
Sir Tristram fitted the ring back into its hiding-place, and closed the circlet with a snap. “For the present I’ll keep this. I think our best course—” He stopped, frowning.
They waited in anxious silence for him to continue, but before he spoke again Nye caught the sound of a coach pulling up in the yard and said apologetically: “Beg pardon, sir, but I’ll have to go. That’ll be the night mail.”
Sir Tristram’s voice arrested him as he reached the door. “Do you mean it’s the London mail, Joe?”
“Ay, that’s the one, sir. I want a word with the guard, if you’ll excuse me.”
Sir Tristram’s chair rasped on the oaken floor as he sprang up. “Then that’s my best course!” he said. “I’ll board it!”