The Seven Stars by Anthea Fraser

Frank?’ Monica turned to Baker with a quick smile. ‘Frank has instructions from his wife to report on people’s clothes.’
    ‘ Well, Miss Monica, I do recall the last two. One was all in pink — I remember thinking she looked like Barbara Cartland — and the other in navy and yellow, with gold buttons.’
    Monica nodded swiftly. ‘I think I can identify them, if the need arises.’
    Baker reasserted himself. ‘Now, ma’am, how many ladies are up there?’
    ‘ About seventy.’
    ‘ Well, I’ll come up and have a general word with them, take a look at the scene and so on. Then, I’m afraid, we shall have to search everyone.’
    Monica ’s eyes widened. ‘But Inspector, you can’t! The Duchess of Hampshire and her daughter are here, and several other titled ladies. Whatever —’
    ‘ I’m sorry, Mrs Latimer, we have no choice.’
    ‘ But surely you need only search those who were in the cloakroom at the time?’
    ‘ It was crowded, I understand. The thief, if thief there be, might not admit to being there. Now’ — as she started to protest again — ‘shall we make a start?’
    *
    That evening was one of the longest Hannah could remember. The excited talk that had broken out after the inspector explained the procedure had given way to anxiety about the length of time required to search everyone, quite apart from the indignity of it.
    There was a moment of drama when one middle-aged woman fainted, causing the uncharitable suspicion that it might be a ruse to avoid being searched. Lady Ursula, whose chauffeur was no doubt in the long line outside, bore up reasonably well despite her air of frailty. Chairs had been brought from downstairs to implement the sofas that furnished this upstairs showroom, and there were seats for all who wanted them.
    Having taken the police back downstairs , Monica showed them into the tearoom and watched while they organised themselves at a couple of the tables. At their request, she’d already furnished them with a copy of the guest-list, which she assumed would be ticked off as, one after another, the ladies submitted to the search.
    ‘ What exactly will be involved, Inspector?’ she asked anxiously.
    ‘ Don’t worry, ma’am, it won’t be an intimate search. The ladies will simply be asked to empty their pockets and hand-bags on to the table and to unfasten their bras, which, as you’ll appreciate, would be a convenient hiding place. They’ll be asked whether they used the cloakroom this evening, and if so at what time and who else was there. Then one of the woman officers will quickly pat their bodies like when you go through security control at the airport.’
    ‘ You might as well start with me, then,’ Monica said. She’d no handbag with her, and no pockets in her two-piece, but one of the constables ran her hands over her body, and she unfastened her brassiere and as requested jumped up and down. Then, with heightened colour, she walked over to the screen which concealed the entrance to the kitchen.
    ‘ I think,’ she said, ‘that last part would be less embarrassing if performed privately.’ And she moved the screen to cover a corner of the room.
    The inspector nodded impassively. ‘Now, Mrs Latimer, if you’d kindly get them organised upstairs, we can make a start.’
    The first to appear was a middle-aged lady with protuberant eyes and a large, tightly corseted body, who fixed Baker with an icy glare and stated, ‘Young man, I might as well tell you I have no intention of being put through this indignity.’
    A good start. ‘I understand your feelings, madam, but I’m sure you realise —’
    ‘ If it’s any of your business, I did not go near the cloakroom all evening. I demand to be allowed to leave at once.’
    Baker sighed. ‘I was hoping not to have to mention this, madam, but normal procedure is that anyone refusing to be searched is arrested on suspicion.’
    ‘ Arrested ? ’ Baker thought for a moment the woman was about to have a