"I am looking for an individual, an Englishman, name of Bryant, and am keeping watch outside. He is wanted in England for a serious offence. Has he been here?"
"Bryant?" repeated the clerk thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Frémy, and then I spelt the name slowly.
The clerk reached his hand to the pigeon-hole wherein were letters for callers whose names began with B, and placing them against a little block of black wood on the counter before him, looked eagerly through while we watched intently.
Once or twice he stopped to scrutinise an address, but his fingers went on again through the letters to the end.
"Nothing," he remarked laconically, replacing the packet in the pigeon-hole. "But there has been correspondence for him. I recollect—a thin-faced man, with grey hair and clean shaven. Yes. I remember him distinctly. He always called just before the office was closed."
"When did he call last?" asked Frémy quickly.
"The night before last, I think," was the man's answer. "A lady was with him—a rather stout English lady."
We both started.
"Did the lady ask for any letters?"