"I am afraid the list is only beginning," said Carrados. "We must go through your renters' book."
The manager roused himself to protest.
"That cannot be done. No one but myself or my deputy ever sees the book. It would be—unprecedented."
"The circumstances are unprecedented," replied Carrados.
"If any difficulties are placed in the way of these gentlemen's investigations, I shall make it my duty to bring the facts before the Home Secretary," announced the professor, speaking up to the ceiling with the voice of a brazen trumpet.
Carrados raised a deprecating hand.
"May I make a suggestion?" he remarked. "Now, I am blind. If, therefore—?"
"Very well," acquiesced the manager. "But I must request the others to withdraw."
For five minutes Carrados followed the list of safe-renters as the manager read them to him. Sometimes he stopped the catalogue to reflect a moment; now and then he brushed a finger-tip over a written signature and compared it with another. Occasionally a password interested him. But when the list came to an end he continued to look into space without any sign of enlightenment.
"So much is perfectly clear and yet so much is incredible," he mused. "You insist that you alone have been in charge for the last six months?"