"You have no right to search me. I am not under arrest," she declared.
Foyle knew she was right. What he was doing was flagrantly unlawful unless he charged her with some offence. Yet there are times when it is necessary for a police officer to put a blind eye to the telescope and to do technically illegal things in order that justice may not be defeated. This he felt was one of the occasions. He ignored her protestations and left the room, closing the door after him. For a brief moment the woman forgot the breeding of the Princess Petrovska in the fiery passion of Lola the dancer. But if she meditated resistance, a second's reflection convinced her that it would be futile. The matron, for all her good-tempered face, was well developed muscularly, and did not seem the kind of woman to be trifled with. The Princess submitted with as good a grace as she could muster.
As the woman drew forth the casket of jewels Lola made one false move. She laid a slim-gloved hand on her arm.
"If you want to earn ten pounds you will give me that back," she said softly.
The matron shook her head with so resolute an expression that the word "twenty," which trembled on the Princess Petrovska's lips, was never uttered. Gathering in her hands the articles she had found, she stepped outside. In three minutes her place was taken by Foyle. He quietly returned to her everything but the jewel case. This he held between his fingers.
"Where did you get this?" he demanded. His voice was keyed to the stern, official tone he knew so well how to assume.
She gripped the side of a chair tightly.
"What is that to do with you? It is mine. Give it to me."
"Not unless you can prove it is yours. If you do not, I shall charge you with being in possession of property suspected to be stolen."