“The constable must search you,” the inspector said, when this was done and the first policeman had disappeared with the note.
“I will save him the trouble,” I said proudly, and I emptied my pockets of a gold watch and chain, a handkerchief, two sovereigns, a sixpence, two halfpennies, a bunch of keys, my master’s linen book, and a new necktie which I had bought that very evening; of which articles the inspector made an inventory.
“Which is the key of the bag?” asked the inspector. The bag was on the desk in front of him, and he had been trying to open it.
“I know nothing of that,” I said.
“Now you, Susan Berry, give up the key,” the inspector said, sternly, turning to her.
For answer Susan burst into sobs, and flung herself against my breast. The situation was excessively embarrassing for me. Heaven knows I had sufficient reason to hate the woman, but though a thief, she was in distress, and I must own that I felt for her.
The constable stepped towards Susan.
“Surely,” I said, “you have a female searcher?”
“A female searcher! Ah, yes!” smiled the inspector, suddenly suave. “Is she here, constable?”
“Not now, sir; she’s gone.”