The girl knew that Harleston was on intimate terms with the State Department, and with the police, and she answered at once.
“Save only yours, not a single in or out call has been registered since twelve fifty-two when apartment No. 401 was connected for a short while.”
“Who has No. 401?”
“A Mr. and Mrs. Chartrand. It’s one of the transient apartments; and they have occupied it only a few days.”
“You didn’t by any chance overhear—”
“The conversation?” she laughed. “Sure, I heard it; anything to put in the time during the night. It was very brief, however; something about him being here, and to meet him at ten in the morning.”
“Who were talking?”
“Mrs. Chartrand and a man—at least I took it to be Mrs. Chartrand; it was a woman’s voice.”
“Did they mention where they were to meet, or the name of the man?”
“No. The very vagueness of the talk made its impression on me at that time of night. In the daytime, I would not have even listened.”