Addressing one of the clerks at the counter, he said—
“I desire to search your file for May, 1886. Can I do so?”
“If m’sieur will have the kindness to fill up this form which we have for the purpose, I will see that the file is brought,” replied the man politely, handing him a dip of paper and a pen.
Trethowen complied with this request, and waited rather impatiently, taking Dolly’s letter from his pocket, and glancing at it to reassure himself that he had made no mistake in the date. There were many persons in the office, some transacting business and others reading that day’s newspapers, which were spread open upon stands. Consequently he did not observe the entrance of three men, who, although coming in separately, met a short distance from where he stood, and held a hurried consultation in an undertone.
One of the men, apparently a respectable workman, took out an unmounted photograph from his wallet, glanced at it, and afterwards looked intently at Hugh who stood calmly unconscious of the scrutiny.
“It’s our man, without a doubt,” declared the workman emphatically. “I’d know him again amongst ten thousand.”
“I wonder what his game is here?” asked the man who had dogged his footsteps from the hotel.
“Cannot you see? He’s asked for the file of the month when the affair occurred,” observed the third man. “Well, what of that?”
“The thing is quite plain. Out of morbid curiosity he wants to read what the paper said,” replied his companion, who, turning to the workman, asked, “Have you any doubt that he is the same man?”
“None whatever.”