There were too
many other things to think of, and I was wondering what on earth Maxine
could have done with the letter-case. She had had no more than two
seconds in which to dispose of it, hardly enough, it seemed to me, to
pass it from one hand to another, yet apparently it was well hidden.
"Now, are you satisfied?" she asked, "Now that we have both shown you we
have nothing to conceal; or would you like to take me to the police
station, and have some dreadful female search me more thoroughly still?
I'll go with you, if you wish. I won't even he indiscreet enough to ask
questions, since you seem inclined to do what we've no need to do--keep
your own secrets. All I stipulate is, that if you care to take such
measures you'll take them at once, for as you may possibly be aware,
this is the first night of my new play, and I should be sorry to be
late."
The Commissary of Police looked fixedly at Maxine for a moment, as if he
would read her soul.
"No, Mademoiselle," he said, "I am convinced that neither you nor
Monsieur are concealing anything about your persons. I will not trouble
you further until we have searched the room."
Maxine could not blanch, for already she was as white as she will be
when she lies in her coffin.
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