"I don't wish my baggage opened," said Owens. "You haven't the right."
Kintyre, with a measure of control restored to him, said: "We could prefer charges and have the police look."
"Go ahead," said Owens more firmly. "I'll sue you for every nickel you've got. I'd enjoy that."
"I don't like trouble," said Clayton. "If you have the book, return it. We'll say you—borrowed it—nobody else ever has to hear a word."
Owens whirled around. "That's a reflection on my integrity!" he shouted.
"If you really are innocent," said Clayton in a patient way, "I should think you'd want your integrity confirmed."
Owens studied them for a moment.
"All right," he said. "I don't blame you, Mr. Clayton. Your reaction is very understandable. But this character—Mr. Clayton, in case I decide to sue him, and I probably will, remember exactly what happened today. Now go ahead and search."
The importer squatted by the suitcase. It didn't take him long to go through the neatly packed clothing. There was no book.