“Very well indeed,” replied Shield coolly. He went forward to the bed, and laid a hand on Ludovic’s shoulder. “Well, my lad, you have got yourself into trouble through this piece of folly. Lie down now: I’ll talk to you later.” He turned, addressing the Exciseman: “I can vouch for this fellow. He does not look very like a smuggler, do you think?”
“No, sir, I’m bound to say he don’t,” said the Exciseman slowly, staring at Ludovic. “I’d say he looked uncommon like the old Lord—from what I remember. It’s the nose. It ain’t a nose one forgets, somehow.”
“It is a nose often seen in these parts,” said Sir Tristram with dry significance.
The Exciseman blinked at him for a moment, and then, as light broke in on him, said hurriedly: “Oh, that’s the way it is! I beg pardon, I’m sure! No offence meant! If you can vouch for the young fellow of course I ain’t got no more to say, sir.”
“Then if you ain’t got no more to say you can take yourself off!” said Nye, thrusting him out of the room. “It don’t do the house any good having your kind in it. Next you’ll be telling me I’ve got smuggled liquor in my cellar!”
“And so you have!” rejoined the Exciseman immediately.
The door closed behind them; those in the little chamber could hear the altercation gradually growing fainter as Nye shepherded his unwelcome guest down the stairs.
No one moved or spoke until the voices had died away. Then Eustacie caught Sir Tristram’s hand, and pressed it to her cheek, saying simply: “I will do anything you wish. I will even marry you!”
“Oh no, you will not!” exploded Ludovic, struggling to sit up. “If this last don’t beat all! What the devil did you mean by telling that long-nosed tidesman that I’m one of Sylvester’s by-blows?”
“But no, Ludovic, no! I find that was very clever of him!” protested Eustacie. “Did you not think so, Sarah?”