Nye looked at her from under his rugged brows. “Ay, does he so? Well, I’ve not had the gloves on with Mr Lavenham, miss, but I’ve sparred with Sir Tristram a-many times, and I say he’s a clean-hitting gentleman! With your leave, ma’am, I’ll go back to Mr Ludovic now.”
He went out, and Miss Thane, pouring out two cups of coffee, said cheerfully: “At all events there seems to be some doubt about Sir Tristram’s guilt. I think, if I were you, I would not marry him until we can be positive he is the murderer.”
Upon reflection Eustacie agreed to the wisdom of this course. She ate a hearty breakfast, and returned to Ludovic’s room, leaving Miss Thane in sole possession of the parlour. Miss Thane finished her meal in a leisurely fashion, and had gone out into the coffee-room, on her way to the stairs, when the sound of an arrival made her pause. An authoritative, not to say peremptory voice outside called the landlord by name, and the next moment the door was flung open and a tall gentleman in riding-dress strode in, carrying a somewhat battered bandbox in either hand. He checked at sight of Miss Thane, favouring her with a hard stare, and putting down the bandboxes, took off his hat, and bowed slightly. “I beg your pardon: do you know where I may find the landlord?” he asked.
Miss Thane, one hand on the banisters, one foot on the bottom stair, looked at him keenly. A pair of stern, rather frowning grey eyes met hers with an expression of the most complete indifference. Miss Thane let go of the banisters, and came forward. “Do tell me!” she said invitingly. “Are you ‘my cousin Tristram’?”
Chapter Five
Sir Tristram’s worried frown lightened. He stared at Miss Thane with an arrested look in his eyes, and his stern mouth relaxed a little. “Oh!” he said slowly, and seemed for the first time to take stock of Sarah Thane. He saw before him a tall, graceful woman, with a quantity of light, curling brown hair, a generous mouth, and a pair of steady grey eyes which held a distinct twinkle. He noticed that she was dressed fashionably but without furbelows in a caraco jacket over a plain blue gown, a habit as nearly resembling a man’s riding-dress as was seemly. She looked to be a sensible woman, and she was obviously gently born. Sir Tristram was thankful to think that his betrothed had (apparently) fallen into such unexceptionable hands, and said with a slight smile: “Yes, I am Tristram Shield, ma’am. I am afraid you have the advantage of me?”
Miss Thane saw her duty clear before her, and answered at once: “Let me beg of you to come into the parlour, Sir Tristram, and I will explain to you who I am.”
He looked rather surprised. “Thank you, but as you have no doubt guessed, I am come in search of my cousin, Mademoiselle de Vauban.”
“Of course,” agreed Miss Thane, “and if you will step into the parlour—”
“Is my cousin in the house?” interrupted Sir Tristram.