"Not a thing!" Grant answered cheerfully. "I wanted to know whether you knew a Mr. Herbert Gotobed?"
"This a joke?"
"Certainly not. He gave your shop as an address for letters, and I wondered if you knew him."
"Not me. I don't take no interest in the people who has letters. They pay their fee when they come for them, and that finishes it as far as I am concerned."
"I see. Well, I want you to help me. I want you to let me stay in your shop until Mr. Gotobed comes to claim his letter. You have a letter for him?"
"Yes, I have a letter. It came last night. But — you police?"
"Scotland Yard," Grant showed his credentials.
"Yes. Well, I don't want no arrests on my premises. This is a respectable business, this is, even if I do a little on the side. I don't want no bad name hanging around my business."
Grant assured him that no arrest was contemplated. All he wanted was to meet Mr. Gotobed. He wanted information from him.
Oh, well, if that was all.