“Was it money you lost?” he inquired.
No, it was not money.
The search continued. Cartaret crawled under the divan, while the duenna held the cover high to admit the light. He blackened his hands in the fire-place and transferred a little of the soot to his few extra clothes that hung behind the corner curtain—but only a little; most of the soot preferred his hands.
“I never knew before that the room was so large,” he gasped.
They had covered two-thirds of the floor-space when a new thought struck him. Still crouching on his knees, he once more tried his companion.
“I can’t find it,” he said; “but I’d give a good deal to know what I’m looking for. What were you doing in here when you lost it, anyway?”
She shook her head, with her hand on her breast. Then she pointed to the door and nodded.
“You mean your mistress lost it?”
“Oui.”
“Well, then, let’s get her. She can tell me what I’m after.”