Chapter Sixteen.
The Veiled Lady.
The neighbouring houses were mostly closed, their owners being out of town for the summer; but the one before which I halted was apparently occupied, therefore I boldly ascended the steps and rang the bell.
My summons was answered by a burly, ill-dressed man in carpet slippers, who, when I inquired for Mr Ashwicke, responded—
“He don’t live here; this is Mrs Stentiford’s.”
“But he did live here,” I protested. “How long has he been gone?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here a fortnight, but I believe the mistress has lived here for three or four years.”
“Is your mistress in?”