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"Something recherché ," she said, "and at the same time a little outré something that will attract attention."
"I wonder what she is thinking of?" thought madame. "And does she know yet that she has lost her purse, and that that purse contained one hundred pounds? But why should I think she has lost it? Surely Miss Hepworth would not pay me with another person's money! The mere coincidence of Miss Hunt's address being in the purse means nothing nothing at all."
"You ask me rather a difficult question, Miss Hunt," she said then. "This is Thursday; the ball is on Monday. I am at my wits' end, as it is, to supply a dress to Miss Katherine Hepworth. Do you know Miss Hepworth, Miss Hunt?"
"No never heard of her," said Katherine Hunt, yawning as she spoke. "Now, my dear, good creature," she continued, rising, "will you give me a dress? Yes, or no."
"I shall do my utmost to accommodate you, Miss Hunt; but it is only at the risk of offending other customers."
"I will pay you anything in reason," said the girl. "I am so delighted to get this invitation that I shall not rest unless I am one of the stars of the evening. Understand that money is no matter. And now, what can you do for me?"
Madame left the room, returning again with fashion-books and yards of brocade, velvet, and other rich materials. Katherine Hunt became absorbed in the vital question of what she was to wear. She was a girl with a great deal of directness of manner; she always knew her own mind, and on this occasion was not long in making her selection. As the ball was to be a fancy one, she would appear as Anne Boleyn. Madame applauded the idea, saying that the dress would suit the stately figure and bold, bright eyes of the young lady.
"It must be done absolutely correctly," said the girl. "I wish you would send round to Fortescue's now for a book of costumes of the time of Henry the Eighth. I know he happens to have them. I will wait until it comes. We must decide all the particulars immediately."
Madame rang her bell, and an attendant entered the room.
"Will you pay for the book?" she said, turning to the girl.
"Oh yes, certainly." And then Miss Hunt dived her hand into her pocket to fetch out her purse.
Madame looked at her with intense curiosity. The pupils of her own eyes dilated when Katherine Hunt took out a pocket-handkerchief, shook it, and then gazed up at madame with an expression of despair.
"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."
"That is impossible. I have not been here for three weeks, and my darling new purse has been one of my pet toys for only a week."
"Then I must have dreamt about it," said madame carelessly. "It is well, Miss Hunt, that you are a rich young lady: you can afford to lose even a hundred pounds."
"Indeed I can't; no one can. And daddy will be so angry. If he is a millionaire, he works hard for his wealth. He will hate to think that I was so careless. But now let us talk about the dress. When shall I be able to have it?"
The conversation became quite dressmakery. The messenger soon returned with the book of costumes, and madame and the girl bent over the pages, criticising, suggesting alterations, and finally making up their minds. The dress was ordered, and Miss Hunt, with a laugh, said that she would desire her hansom-driver to take her to Scotland Yard at once.