“Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. He’s the sort of johnny who wouldn’t care about having a sister-in-law on the loose.”
“Ennison here thought he saw her in London,” Meddoes remarked.
Drummond nodded.
“Very likely. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I believe. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. Who’s for a rubber of whist?”
Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister.
“Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler.
“Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. “I have just ordered a carriage for her. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table.
A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase.
“Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. “I hope you are going to Carey House.”