Six or seven weeks! And the murder took place just over six weeks before! Could there be a connection, or was this mere coincidence?
‘It must be a satisfaction to a man of business,’ La Touche went on conversationally, as he helped himself to wine, ‘when his business grows to the extent of requiring an additional typist. I envy M. Boirac his feelings when he inserted his advertisement nearly as much as I envy him when you applied.’
‘You have wasted your envy then,’ returned the girl in chilly and contemptuous tones, ‘for you are wrong on both points. M. Boirac’s business has not extended, for I replaced a girl who had just left, and no advertisement was inserted as I went to M. Boirac from the Michelin School in the rue Scribe.’
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.