“I think you must be mistaken. Mrs Stentiford was certainly occupying the house then.”
“But you were not here?”
“No; I wasn’t here, that’s true.”
“She might have let it for a few weeks, during the London season—eh?”
“She certainly might,” he responded; “but, if she did, she kept the matter a secret, for none of the neighbours are aware of it.”
“Then you have already inquired?” I asked, somewhat surprised, for he spoke so positively.
“Yes,” he replied. “Curiously enough, a few days ago I had some one else call and ask for Mr Ashwicke.”
“Who was it?” I demanded quickly.
“A lady—a young, rather good-looking lady.”
“What was she like? Describe her to me.”