“Her ladyship is out of town, sir,” the maid-servant answered in response to my inquiry.
“And Miss—Miss Ashwicke?” I said, quickly remembering that she had been introduced to me by that name.
“Ashwicke,” repeated the girl, puzzled. “There is no Miss Ashwicke in the family, sir.”
“Oh, of course,” I said, rather lamely I fear; “it’s my mistake. I meant Miss Wynd.”
“She’s with her ladyship in Wiltshire, sir.”
“At Atworth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When did they leave?”
“Three days ago, sir. Sir Henry went with them.”
“Did a young gentleman named Chetwode accompany them?”