Kerry rolled mint gum from side to side of his mouth, and absently
tried the handle of the door opening out from this interior room--
evidently the office of the establishment--into the corridor. He knew
it to be locked. Turning, he walked through the suite and out on to
the landing, passing the constable and going upstairs to the top
floor, torch in hand.
From the main landing he walked along the narrow corridor until he
stood at the head of the back stairs. The door nearest to him bore the
name: "Cubanis Cigarette Company." He tried the handle. The door was
locked, as he had anticipated. Kneeling down, he peered into the
keyhole, holding the electric torch close beside his face and chewing
industriously.
Ere long he stood up, descended again, but by the back stair, and
stood staring reflectively at the door communicating with Kazmah's
inner room. Then walking along the corridor to where the man stood on,
the landing, he went in again to the mysterious apartments, but only
to get his cane and his overall and to turn out the lights.
Five minutes later he was ringing the late Sir Lucien's door-bell.
A constable admitted him, and he walked straight through into the
study where Coombes, looking very tired but smiling undauntedly, sat
at a littered table studying piles of documents.
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