“Yes. Go and—no, stop. Where is Master Sydney?”
“I think he has gone fishing, my lady. I saw him with his rod and basket. Oh, yes, my lady, I remember, he asked me to cut him some sandwiches.”
Jane’s tongue wanted to say a few words about the flask and sherry, but she had a sort of sneaking liking for the saucy young rascal, and she suppressed that.
“To be sure, I remember,” said Lady Lisle, quite cold and calm now—upon the surface. “Go and ask Sir Hilton to join me here.”
“Sir Hilton, my lady?”
“Yes. Did I not speak plainly?” said her ladyship, cuttingly.
“Yes, my lady, but I thought you had forgotten again. Sir Hilton’s gone out.”
“Gone out?”
This came like a volcanic burst through the calm envelope.
“Yes, my lady.”