Just then an upstairs window opened and Jabowski looked down on the group.
“What d’you want?” he demanded. Then, recognizing his employer, he said quickly: “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Manheim.”
“Open the door,” the island owner ordered. “Police insist on searching the place.”
“I’ll be right down,” the caretaker replied, leaving the window.
A moment later he unlocked the front door, staring curiously at the members of the police squad.
“Sorry, our orders are to search the place,” one of the officers apologized. “Mind if we look around?”
“Go ahead,” Jabowski shrugged. “I only work here.”
By this time all the Cubs had reached the hotel. However, except for Dan, Mr. Hatfield would not allow them inside the building.
The lobby of the old hotel had been converted into a makeshift living room. Scantily furnished with a few cast-off pieces of rickety furniture, the floor was unswept and the windows dirty.
Climbing a flight of squeaky stairs, the policemen began a systematic search of the bedrooms. Nearly all were empty and unfurnished.