‘Of course,’ agreed Miss Thane, ‘and if you will step in the parlour –’
‘Is my cousin in the house?’ interrupted Sir Tristram.
‘Well, yes,’ admitted Miss Thane, ‘but I am not all sure that you can see her. Come into the parlour, and I will see what can be done.’
Sir Tristram cast a glance up the stairs, and said in a voice edged with annoyance: ‘Very well, ma’am, but why there should be any doubt about my seeing my cousin I am at a loss to understand.’
‘I can tell you that too,’ said Miss Thane, leading the way to the private parlour. She shut the door, and said cheerfully: ‘One cannot after all be surprised. You have behaved with a shocking lack of sensibility, have you not?’
‘I was not aware of it, ma’am. Nor do I know why my cousin should leave her home at dead of night and undertake a solitary journey to London.’
‘She was wishful to become a governess,’ explained Sarah.
He stared at her in the blankest surprise. ‘Wishful to become a governess? Nonsense! Why should she wish anything of the kind?’
‘Just for the sake of adventure,’ said Miss Thane.
‘I have yet to learn that a governess’s life is adventurous!’ he said. ‘I should be grateful to you if you would tell me the truth!’
‘Come, come, sir!’ said Miss Thane pityingly, ‘it must surely be within your knowledge that the eldest son of the house always falls in love with the governess, and elopes with her in the teeth of all opposition?’
Sir Tristram drew a breath. ‘Does he?’ he said.
‘Yes, but not, of course, until he has rescued her from an oubliette, and a band of masked ruffians set on to her by his mother,’ said Miss Thane matter-of-factly. ‘She has to suffer a good deal of persecution before she elopes.’
‘I am of the opinion,’ said Sir Tristram with asperity, ‘that a little persecution would do my cousin a world of good! Her thirst for romance is likely to lead her into trouble. In fact, I was very much afraid that she had already run into trouble when I found her bandboxes upon the road. Perhaps, since she appears to have told you so much, she has also told you how she came to lose them?’
Miss Thane, perceiving that this question would lead her on to dangerous ground, mendaciously denied all knowledge of the bandboxes. She then made the discovery that Sir Tristram Shield’s eyes were uncomfortably penetrating. She met their sceptical gaze with all the blandness she could summon to her aid.
‘Indeed!’ he said, politely incredulous. ‘But perhaps you can tell me why, if she was bound for London by the night-mail, as her maid informed me, she is still in this inn?’
‘Certainly!’ said Sarah, rising to the occasion. ‘She arrived too late for the mail, and was forced to put up for the night.’
‘What did she do for night-gear?’ inquired Shield.
‘Oh, I lent her what she needed!’
‘I suppose she did not think the loss of her baggage of sufficient interest to call for explanation?’
‘To tell you the truth –’ began Sarah confidingly.
‘Thank you! I should like to hear the truth.’
‘To tell you the truth,’ repeated Sarah coldly, ‘she had a fright, and the bandboxes broke loose.’
‘What frightened her?’
‘A Headless Horseman,’ said Sarah.
He was frowning again. ‘Headless Horseman? Fiddle-sticks!’
‘Very well,’ said Sarah, as one making a concession, ‘then it was a dragon.’
‘I think,’ said Sir Tristram in a very level voice, ‘that it will be better if I see my cousin and hear her story from her own lips.’
‘Not if you are going to approach it in this deplorable spirit,’ replied Miss Thane. ‘I dare say you would tell her there are no such things as dragons or headless horsemen!’
‘Well?’