the browncoat would frequently go into the kitchen late at night when most of the others , responsible young bureaucrats and rubicund young builders and rubenesque young chambermaids , were maximising their mourning efficiency and ulterior earning potential in their respective tonically warm beds , the restorative pods of the happiest production , and late in the night would he remove all the milk bottles from the kitchen and he opened and took them to his room , taking great delight in the way the glass bottles clicked and scratched each other in his arms in what to him were agonisingly loud noises that would force a snoring platoon to come to attention but wilted pathetically before the vulgar health of the tenants sleep , and in the inevitable little spills that he would come back to and push into the little creaks in the parquetry with the tips of his shoes and hope the spills would remain visible so as to give any potential detective a trail to follow to the scene of the secret crime but none would come .