A bunch of keys, a menu from Maxim's on the margin of which were pencilled two ladies' names—some loose gold and silver—a pair of white kid gloves torn to ribbons, and a little gold-chain lady's bag. This latter he held up and tried to think how it came into his possession.
All the time that he was in Rémy's hands he thought and thought, but to no purpose. He had a hazy kind of recollection of having seen it before, that was all. It contained a little lace handkerchief and a twenty-franc gold piece, but no initial or other mark of identification could be found.
When his toilet was complete, the young Duc de Choleaux Lasuer stood before the cheval glass in his room whilst he sprinkled a suspicion of Jockey Club upon his handkerchief.
He saw the reflection of a well set up, clean-limbed man of twenty-five, with crisp hair of a dark brown, almost black, curling back from an intellectual brow. The skin was of that olive tint that sets off dark eyes so well.
The duke was dressed in a grey lounge suit with a waistcoat of some dark material sprigged with tiny violet flowers. His cravat, tied in the latest mode, was held in position by a pin surmounted by a large blood-red ruby. The hands were rather large, but with tapering fingers; the feet, in their patent leather boots with suède cloth uppers, were long and thin. An aristocrat every inch of him, and a dandy withal, but yet with a suggested air of strength and manliness. In short, his Grace the Duc de Choleaux Lasuer was a very presentable person indeed. So had thought the Princess Galva when she had caught sight of him in the corridors or in the Palm Court of their hotel.
The duke slowly made his way down the wide carpeted staircase, pausing in the foyer to light a cigarette. Then he crossed to the board containing letters and telegrams and glanced idly over them. It was here that he read a notice that any one finding a small gold chain-bag should communicate with the office clerk of the hotel.
In a flash it came to him that he had picked up the dainty little trifle as he went to his room the night before. His friend, the Viscount Mersac, had been with him. What a night it had been, to be sure! The duke smiled at the recollections.
As he approached the office a little man in a dark grey suit and with gold-rimmed spectacles was interviewing the clerk in charge. He turned as the duke approached, and caught sight of the bag in his hand.
"Ah!" he said. "You have found it?"
The clerk looked up. "Your Grace," he said, "this is the gentleman who has advertised. It is his ward who has lost it—the little purse."