“As good as though,” replies Inspector Bush confidently, but he stops abruptly as he hears steps approaching. Again the door of Mr. Trackem’s business room opens. Victoire enters. There is blank disappointment on Inspector Bush’s face. Victoire sees it as she fixes her dark eyes full upon him.
“Good-afternoon, gentlemen,” she says quietly; “you wished to see Mr. Trackem? I am sorry to say he is away, but I expect him back the day after to-morrow. His head clerk is ill too, but I can do anything for you in Mr. Trackem’s place. I always attend to his affairs in his absence.”
She smiles good-naturedly on the blank, nonplussed detectives. She seems to give her attention especially to Inspector Bush. Inspector Truffle rises to the occasion.
“Thank you, madam,” he says briskly, “but I fear the business we have come about can only be transacted with Mr. Trackem. The fact is, madam, we came to settle an account that we owe him, and which would require Mr. Trackem’s signature to be of any use as a receipt. And the worst of it is, we are going away, and shall not be able to call again.”
He fixes a piercing glance upon her as he speaks, but Victoire is equal to the occasion. She does not believe a word of Inspector Truffle’s statement, and divines perfectly well what his business is.
She assumes a disappointed air as she exclaims,
“It is a great pity. But what is to be done? I do not think I can possibly get Mr. Trackem back before the day after to-morrow. However, I will telegraph to him, and will send you his reply. Will you favour me with your address?”
Here is a poser. Victoire sees it, and inwardly chuckles. But again Inspector Truffle attempts to uphold the fair fame of detective smartness.
“Certainly, madam,” he replies, as he takes out his card-case and hands her a card therefrom, upon which she reads the address of a well-known firm of solicitors.
She assumes a most deferential manner.