‘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.’ It had occurred to La Touche that in spite of his precautions Boirac might have somehow discovered what he was engaged on, and sent this girl with a made up story. But her answer satisfied him. If she had been an impostor she would have come provided with proofs of her identity. ‘Ah, well,’ he rejoined with a smile, ‘I think I may safely take the risk. May I ask you another question? Was a new typewriter purchased while you were at the office?’ The surprise on the pleasant face deepened. ‘Why, yes, monsieur, a No. 10 Remington.’ ‘And can you tell me just when?’ ‘Easily. I left the office on Monday, 5th April, and the new machine was sent three days earlier--on Friday, the 2nd.’ Here was news indeed! La Touche was now in no doubt about following up the matter. He must get all the information possible out of this girl. And the need for secrecy would make him stick to diplomacy. He smiled and bowed. ‘You will forgive me, mademoiselle, but I had to satisfy myself you were the lady I wished to meet. I asked you these questions only to ensure that you knew the answers. And now I shall tell you who I am and what is the business at issue. But first, may I ask you to keep all I may tell you secret?’ His visitor looked more and more mystified as she replied:-- ‘I promise, monsieur.’ ‘Then I may say that I am a private detective, employed on behalf of the typewriter company to investigate some very extraordinary--I can only call them frauds, which have recently been taking place. In some way, which up to the present we have been unable to fathom, several of our machines have developed faults which, you understand, do not prevent them working, but which prevent them being quite satisfactory. The altering of tensions and the slight twisting of type to put them out of alignment are the kind of things I mean. We hardly like to suspect rival firms of practising these frauds to get our machines into disfavour, and yet it is hard to account for it otherwise. Now, we think that you can possibly give us some information, and I am authorised by my company to hand you one hundred francs if you will be kind enough to do so.’ The surprise had not left the girl’s face as she answered:--