‘Yes, monsieur, he made two calls. See, there is the telephone. We allow all our patrons to use it.’
‘An excellent idea. I am sure it is much appreciated. But there was an unfortunate mistake about the message he sent me. It was making an appointment, and he did not turn up. I am afraid I misunderstood what he said. Could you hear the message? Perhaps, if so, you would tell me if he spoke of an appointment on last Tuesday?’
The waiter, who up to then had been all smiles and amiability, flashed a suspicious little glance at the detective. He continued to smile politely, but Lefarge felt he had closed up like an oyster in his shell, and when he replied: ‘I could not hear, monsieur. I was engaged with the service,’ the other suspected he was lying.
He determined to try a bluff. Changing his manner and speaking authoritatively, though in a lower tone, he said:—
‘Now, look here, garçon. I am a detective officer. I want to find out about those telephone messages, and I don’t want to have the trouble of taking you to the Sûreté to interrogate you.’ He took out a five-franc piece. ‘If you can tell me what he said, this will be yours.’
A look of alarm came into the man’s eyes.
‘But, monsieur——’ he began.
‘Come now, I am certain you know, and you’ve got to tell. You may as well do it now and get your five francs, as later on at the Sûreté and for nothing. What do you say now? Which is it to be?’
The waiter remained silent, and it was obvious to Lefarge that he was weighing his course of action. His hesitation convinced the detective that he really did know the messages, and he determined to strike again.
‘Perhaps you are doubtful whether I really am from the Sûreté,’ he suggested. ‘Look at that.’