He found a chambermaid to open the door for them with a pass key. Inside, Valerie fetched up short with an exclamation, so abruptly that he trod on her heels.
The room was a shambles. Her two suitcases were open, the contents strewn all over the bed, the other furniture, and the floor. But he was not seriously surprised.
“Did you try to unpack in a hurry when you ran up before lunch?” he inquired calmly.
“Of course not! Who would unpack like this? There’s been a burglar here!”
She ran aimlessly about, rummaging among her disordered effects.
“Don’t get excited,” he murmured. “I don’t think there’s any harm done that a little ironing won’t fix. If you’d been here yourself, it might have been very different.”
“I haven’t got much jewelry,” she protested, “but—”
“I expect it’s all there,” he said. “The one valuable piece was safe all the time.”
He held out the Saint Christopher medal.
She took it, and stared at him.