“If it is Mademoiselle Idiale,” Laverick directed, “I must see her directly she arrives. How are you, Shepherd?” he added, nodding to the waiter as he passed towards his room. “Come in, will you? You’ve got your certificates all right?”
Mr. James Shepherd had the air of a man with whom prosperity had not wholly agreed. He was paler and pastier-looking than ever, and his little green eyes seemed even more restless. His attire—a long rough overcoat over the livery of his profession—scarcely enhanced the dignity of his appearance.
“Well, what is it?” Laverick asked, as soon as the door was closed.
“Our bar is being watched,” the man declared. “I don’t think it’s anything to do with the police. Seems to be a sort of foreign gang. They’re all round the place, morning, noon, and night. They’ve pumped everybody.”
“There isn’t very much,” Laverick remarked slowly, “for them to find out except from you.”
“They’ve found out something, anyway,” Shepherd continued. “My junior waiter, unfortunately, who was asleep in the sitting-room, told them he was sure there were customers in the place between ten and twelve on Monday night, because they woke him up twice, talking. They’re beginning to look at me a bit doubtful.”
“I shouldn’t worry,” Laverick advised. “The inquest’s on now and you haven’t been called. I don’t fancy you’re running any sort of risk. Any one may say they believe there were people in the bar between those hours, but there isn’t any one who can contradict you outright. Besides, you haven’t sworn to anything. You’ve simply said, as might be very possible, that you don’t remember any one.”
“It makes me a bit nervous, though,” Shepherd remarked apologetically. “They’re a regular keen-looking tribe, I can tell you. Their eyes seem to follow you all over the place.”
“I shall come in for a drink presently myself,” Laverick declared. “I should like to see them. I might get an idea as to their nationality, at any rate.”
“Very good, sir. I’m sure I’m doing just as you suggested. I’ve said nothing about leaving, but I’m beginning to grumble a bit at the work, so as to pave the way. It’s a hard job, and no mistake. I had thirty-nine chops between one and half-past, single-handed, too, with only a boy to carry the bread and that, and no one to serve the drinks unless they go to the counter for them. It’s more than one man’s work, Mr. Laverick.”