‘I shall not require it till to-morrow,’ 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 can you give any proof of that? A mere matter of form, of course, but in justice to my employers I am bound to ask the question.’
An expression of surprise passed over the girl’s face.
‘I really don’t know that I can,’ she answered. ‘You see, I was not expecting to be asked such a question.’