Nye interposed at this point. “Mr Ludovic, what be you doing here?” he demanded. “Have you gone crazy to come into the Weald? Who shot you?”
“Some damned Exciseman. We landed a cargo of brandy and rum two nights ago, and I’d a fancy to learn what’s been going forward here. I came up with Abel.”
Nye laid a quick hand across his lips and glanced warningly in Miss Thane’s direction.
“You needn’t regard me,” she said encouragingly. “I am pledged to secrecy.”
Ludovic turned his head to look at her. “I beg pardon, but who in thunder are you?” he said.
“It’s Miss Thane, sir, who’s putting up in the house.”
“Yes,” interrupted Eustacie, “and I think she is truly very sensible, mon cousin, and she would like infinitely to help us.”
“But we don’t want any help!”
“Certainly we want help, because Tristram will search for me, and perhaps the Excisemen for you, and you must be hidden.”
“And that’s true, too,” muttered Nye. “You’ll stay where you are tonight, sir, but it ain’t safe for longer. I’ll have you where you can slip into the cellar if the alarm’s raised.”