"There's no
bar against them coming here at night?"
"They can come in--and go out--whenever they please," answered the elder
man. "I tell you we've nothing to do with them--except as their
landlords."
"Where do you live--yourselves?" asked the Inspector. "On these premises?"
"No, we don't," replied the younger brother, who, of the two, had showed
the keenest, if most silent, resentment at the police proceedings. "We
live--elsewhere. This establishment is opened at eight in the morning, and
closed at seven in the evening. We're never here after seven--either of
us."
"So that you never see anything of these foreigners at night-time?" asked
the Inspector. "Don't know what they do, I suppose?"
"We never see anything of 'em at any time," said the elder brother. "As
you see, this passage and staircase is outside the shop. We know nothing
whatever about them beyond what I've told you."
"Well--take us up, and we'll see what we can find out," commanded the
Inspector. "We're going to examine those rooms, Mr. Pilmansey, so we'll
get it done at once."
The intervening rooms between the lower and the top floors of the old
house appeared to be given up to stores--the open doors revealed casks,
cases, barrels, piles of biscuit and confectionery boxes--nothing to
conceal there, decided the lynx-eyed men who trooped up the dingy stairs
after the grumbling proprietors.
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