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Pitou—Good afternoon, Monsieur.

Chandelle—(looking about him curiously) Are you perhaps Monsieur Pitou?

Pitou—Yes, Monsieur.

Chandelle—Ah! I was told that one would always find you in at this hour. (He takes off his overcoat and lays it carefully on a chair.) I was told also that you could help me.

Pitou—(puzzled) I could help you?

Chandelle—(sitting down wearily on a wooden chair near the table) Yes, I’m a—a stranger in the city—now. I’m trying to trace someone—someone who has been dead many years. I’ve been informed that you’re the oldest inhabitant (he smiles faintly).

Pitou—(rather pleased) Perhaps—and yet there are older than I, ah yes, older than I. (He sits down across the table from Chandelle.)

Chandelle—And so I came for you. (He bends earnestly over the table toward Pitou.) Monsieur Pitou, I am trying to trace my father.

Pitou—Yes.

Chandelle—He died in this district about twenty years ago.

Pitou—Monsieur’s father was murdered?

Chandelle—Good God, no! What makes you think that?