“But isn't he handsome,” went on Cynthia ecstatically. “He looks like a film star.” She turned sharply to Larose. “Is he a friend of yours? Did he come with you?”
“He's my chauffeur,” smiled Larose, “and when you've sent that waitress to me, you can go and talk to him.”
“Sure, I will,” replied Cynthia archly. “I like talking to good-looking men.”
Larose questioned the waitress, but could get nothing out of her. She was wooden and unintelligent and could add nothing to that she had already told the detective, indeed she declared she would not have recollected the incident of the four men at all, if it had not been that it had happened upon the afternoon when the landlord's daughter could not be found anywhere, and was not at hand to help them tidy up the room.
A few minutes later, Laros
