"My purse is gone!" she said. "Some one must have stolen it! I went to the bank only this morning, and got a hundred pounds in gold and notes. There were several things I wanted to buy—in especial a wedding present for a friend of mine. The purse is gone! What can be the matter?"
Madame sympathized, but held her own counsel. Miss Hunt looked worried. Rich as she was, the loss of a hundred pounds was rather serious.
"Who can be the thief?" she said. "I remember now: I was in a hansom driving to Bond Street. I took out my purse and handkerchief. I must have left the purse on the seat, or perhaps it tumbled to the floor. Yes, I remember the number of the hansom. I took the number. It is funny that I should have done so, but I did. I can repeat it to you—22,461. If the man found the purse, he will, of course, take it to Scotland Yard."
"Of course, Miss Hunt," replied madame. "But, on the other hand, a dishonest person may have got into the hansom and taken the purse."
"Oh, not likely, not at all likely," said Miss Hunt, in a careless tone. Then she said, turning to the messenger, "Will you pay for the book, please? I will wait until it comes back.—Dishonest people don't often ride in those nice sort of hansoms," she continued. "It had rubber tyres, I remember quite well. Yes, and the number was 22,461. I will drive from here to Scotland Yard. I do hope I shall get back my purse. I was so fond of it too."
"Had your purse silver initials on the outside?" asked madame suddenly.
"Yes, my own initials, 'K.H.' Why do you ask?"
"And was it a Russian leather one?"
"It was; and oh, such a darling purse! It was given to me by one of my cousins a week ago. But have you seen it? How strange!"
"I must have seen it with you," said madame, "when last you called."