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"Nobody lives here, sir," explained the officer, when McNorton had made himself known. "Old Rosenblaum runs the business, and lives at Highgate." He flashed his lamp upon the door and tried it, but it did not yield. A nightfarer who had been in the shade on the opposite side of the street came across and volunteered information. He had seen another car drive up and a gentleman had alighted.
He had opened the door with a key and gone in. There was nothing suspicious about him. He was "quite a gentleman, and was in evening-dress." The constable thought it was one of the partners of Rosenblaum in convivial and resplendent garb. He had been in the house ten minutes then had come out again, locking the door behind him, and had driven off just before Beale's car had arrived.
"Well, sir," said the girl, making a fight for her reputation, "I only glanced at the ticket and I only noticed " "Yes, you did," interrupted Beale sharply, "you read every line of it. Where was it?" "Rosenblaum Bros., of Commercial Road," blurted the girl. "Any number?" "I didn't see the number." "You will find them in the telephone book," said Kitson. "What does it mean?"
To his amazement Oliva was extraordinarily cheerful and talkative and even amusing. He had kept Bridgers at the door of the car whilst he investigated the pawn-broking establishment of Messrs. Rosenblaum Bros., and had returned in triumph to discover that the girl who up to then had been taciturn and uncommunicative was in quite an amiable mood.
She had an inclination to laugh which she checked. She examined the ticket curiously. It announced the fact that Messrs. Rosenblaum Bros., of Commercial Road, London, had advanced ten shillings on a "Gents' Silver Hunter Watch," and the pledge had been made in the name of van Heerden! She gazed at it bewildered. He was not a man who needed ten shillings or ten dollars or ten pounds.
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