Hearing the alarm raised, these moved in like sharks scenting blood, surrounding Hannah, who stood alone. “These are my pearls,” she said, doing her best to sound calm and reasonable, though she was both frightened and furious. “At least, not exactly mine, although . . .” “You see, she admits she has stolen them. Police!” Constable Bates, who had been hired to keep the village riffraff out, heard the call and asked what seemed to be the trouble. “I told the maids to clean my pearls—an heirloom set, you see how perfect they are. Then afterward no one could find them.” “They are mine!” Hannah said, trembling, outraged. “She says they’re hers,” the constable said with a shrug. He’d been the object of too much condescension and even outright rudeness from Lady Liripip to take her side readily. Besides, the girl she was accusing looked like a princess. “How could they be hers, you dimwit! She’s a kitchen maid. Kitchen maids don’t own pearls. Get them off her before they get filthy.”
