He gave his sister a sleepy smile as she entered the room, and, of habit rather than of necessity, picked up his quizzing-glass, and through it inspected a plate of grilled ham and eggs from which Clem had lifted the cover. He nodded, and Clem heaved a sigh of relief.
Miss Thane, taking in at a glance the proportions of this breakfast, shook her head, and said: “My dear, you must be very unwell indeed! Only one plate of ham, and those few wretched slices of beef to follow! How paltry!”
Sir Hugh, accustomed like so many large men to being a butt, received this sally with unruffled placidity, and waved Clem away. The tapster went out, and Miss Thane thoughtfully handed her brother the mustard. “What are your engagements in town, Hugo?”
Sir Hugh reflected while masticating a mouthful of ham. “Have I any?” he asked after a pause.
“I don’t know, Should you mind remaining here for a time?”
“Not while the Chambertin lasts,” replied Sir Hugh simply. He consumed another mouthful, and added: “It’s my belief the liquor in this place never paid duty at any port.”
“No, I think it was probably all smuggled,” agreed Miss Thane. “I met a smuggler last night, when you had gone to bed.”
“Oh, did you?” Sir Hugh washed down the ham with a draught of ale, and emerged from the tankard to say, as a thought occurred to him: “You ought to be more careful. Where did you meet him?”
“He arrived at the inn, very late, and wounded. He’s here now.”
A faint interest gleamed in Sir Hugh’s eye. He lowered his fork. “Did he bring anything with him?”