At last, the corpulent old lady rose with an effort and a rustling of silk, and left us.
“Well,” I said, rising and taking up a position before the fire, “have you seen anything of Jack to-day?”
“No,” she replied, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks. “I was in the Row this morning and looked out for him, but he was not there. I expect he is still at Hounslow.”
“Did he tell you he was going to Hounslow?” I asked. “Yes, he sent me a note yesterday morning, saying that one of his brother-officers had been compelled to obtain leave unexpectedly, and that he was going down to do duty for him.”
“For how long?”
“He said he would be back again last night,” and placing her hand in her pocket she drew forth the letter, and read it to reassure herself that she had made no mistake.
“I want to see him on a most important matter; if he does not return I shall have to run down to Hounslow,” I said. Then, as if suddenly remembering, I added, “Oh, by the way, do you know any maid named Ashcombe—Annie Ashcombe?”
“Ashcombe,” she repeated, puzzled. “Why do you want to know the names of servant-maids? What interest have you in her?”
“I—er—well, I want to find her, that’s all. If I can discover her she’ll hear something to her advantage, as the solicitors’ advertisements say.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help the young person to her good fortune,” she laughed. “However, I’ll bear the name in mind, and if I come across her I won’t fail to let you know.”