The Cask Freeman Wills Crofts (great reads TXT) 📖

La Touche had got his information; at least, all he had expected from this girl. He continued the somewhat one-sided conversation for some minutes, and then with a courteous bow left the restaurant. He reached his hotel determined to follow the matter up.

Accordingly, next morning saw him repeating his tactics of the previous evening. Taking up his position in the restaurant near the Pump Works shortly before midday, he watched the staff go for déjeuner. First came M. Boirac, then M. Dufresne, and then a crowd of lesser lights⁠—clerks and typists. He saw his friend of the night before with the same two companions, closely followed by the prompt clerk. At last the stream ceased, and in about ten minutes the detective crossed the road and once more entered the office. It was empty except for a junior clerk.

“Good morning,” said La Touche affably. “I called to ask whether you would be so good as to do me a favour. I want a piece of information for which, as it may give you some trouble to procure, I will pay twenty francs. Will you help me?”

“What is the information, monsieur?” asked the boy⁠—he was little more than a boy.

“I am manager of a paper works and I am looking for a typist for my office. I am told that a young lady typist left here about six weeks ago?”

“That is true, monsieur; Mlle. Lambert.”

“Yes, that is the lady’s name,” returned La Touche, making a mental note of it.

“Now,” he continued confidentially, “can you tell me why she left?”

“I think she was dismissed, monsieur, but I never really understood why.”

“Dismissed?”

“Yes, monsieur. She had some row with M. Boirac, our managing director. I don’t know⁠—none of us know⁠—what it was about.”

“I had heard she was dismissed, and that is why I was interested in her. Unfortunately my business is not for the moment as flourishing as I should wish. It occurred to me that if I could find a typist who had some blot on her record, she might be willing to come to me for a smaller salary than she would otherwise expect. It would benefit her as well as me, as it would enable her to regain her position.”

The clerk bowed without comment, and La Touche continued:⁠—

“The information I want is this. Can you put me in touch with this young lady? Do you know her address?”

The other shook his head.

“I fear not, monsieur. I don’t know where she lives.”

La Touche affected to consider.

“Now, how am I to get hold of her?” he said. The clerk making no suggestion, he went on after a pause:⁠—

“I think if you could tell me just when she left it might help me. Could you do that?”

“About six weeks ago. I can tell you the exact day by looking up the old wages sheets if you don’t mind waiting. Will you take a seat?”

La Touche thanked him and sat down, trusting the search would be concluded before any of the other clerks returned. But he was not delayed long. In three or four minutes the boy returned.

“She left on Monday, the 5th of April, monsieur.”

“And was she long with you?”

“About two years, monsieur.”

“I am greatly obliged. And her Christian name was?”

“Éloise, monsieur. Éloise Lambert.”

“A thousand thanks. And now I have just to beg of you not to mention my visit, as it would injure me if it got out that my business was not too flourishing. Here is my debt to you.” He handed over the twenty francs.

“It is too much, monsieur. I am glad to oblige you without payment.”

“A bargain is a bargain,” insisted the detective, and, followed by the profuse thanks of the young clerk, he left the office.

“This grows interesting,” thought La Touche, as he once more emerged into the street. “Boirac dismisses a typist on the very day the cask reaches St. Katherine’s Docks. Now, I wonder if the new typewriter made its appearance at the same time. I must get hold of that girl Lambert.”

But how was this to be done? No doubt there would be a record of her address somewhere in the office, but he was anxious that no idea of his suspicions should leak out, and he preferred to leave that source untapped. What, then, was left to him? He could see nothing for it but an advertisement.

Accordingly, he turned into a café and, calling for a bock, drafted out the following:⁠—

“If Mlle. Éloise Lambert, stenographer and typist, will apply to M. Georges La Touche, Hôtel Suisse, rue de La Fayette, she will hear something to her advantage.”

He read over the words and then a thought struck him, and he took another sheet of paper and wrote:⁠—

“If Mlle. Éloise Lambert, stenographer and typist, will apply to M. Guillaume Faneuil, Hôtel St. Antoine, she will hear something to her advantage.”

“If Boirac should see the thing, there’s no use in my shoving into the limelight,” he said to himself. “I’ll drop Georges La Touche for a day or two and try the St. Antoine.”

He sent his advertisement to several papers, then, going to the Hôtel St. Antoine, engaged a room in the name of M. Guillaume Faneuil.

“I shall not require it till tomorrow,” he said to the clerk, and next day he moved in.

During the morning there was a knock at the door of his private sitting-room, and a tall, graceful girl of about five-and-twenty entered. She was not exactly pretty, but exceedingly pleasant and good-humoured looking. Her tasteful, though quiet, dress showed she was not in need as a result of losing her situation.

La Touche rose and bowed.

“Mlle. Lambert?” he said with a smile. “I am M. Faneuil. Won’t you sit down?”

“I saw your advertisement in Le Soir, monsieur, and⁠—here I am.”

“I am much indebted to you for coming so promptly, mademoiselle,” said La Touche, reseating himself, “and I shall not trespass long on your time. But before explaining the matter may I ask if you are the Mlle. Lambert who recently acted as typist at the Avrotte Works?”

“Yes, monsieur. I was there for nearly two years.”

“Forgive me, but