"I do not like letting you go," said our hostess, "but I take long to dress. My car shall carry you home and return for me. Yvonne, see to that. Yes, there will be plenty of time. Besides, you have driven enough in taxis for to-day. What have you lost, my dear?" The girl was looking about her. "I think I must have left it in the box--my chain bag. How silly!" "My dear, I leave everything everywhere" "I will get it," said I. Yvonne had gone for the car. Besides, I wanted to go. "Oh, thank you. It's quite a small gold--" "I know it," said I, smiling. "Can you find your way?" said Madame. "The house will be almost in darkness." "Oh, yes, Madame." A moment later I was in the corridor beyond the iron door. It was quite dark, but twenty paces away a faint suggestion of light showed where the door of the Royal box stood open. When I reached it, I saw that a solitary lamp was burning on the far side of the stalls. After glancing at it, the darkness of the box seemed more impenetrable. I felt for the little gold bag--on the balcony, on the chair, on the floor. It was nowhere. I stood up and peered into the great, dim auditorium, wondering whether I dared strike a match. Fearing that there might be a fireman somewhere in the darkness, I abandoned the idea. The sudden flash might be seen, and then people would come running, and there would have to be explanations. I went down on my hands and knees, and felt round her chair and then mine, and then all over the box. Just as I got up, my right hand encountered something hard and shiny. Clearly it wasn't what I was looking for, but out of curiosity I stooped to feel it again. I groped in vain for a moment; then I put my hand full on the buckle of a patent-leather shoe. As my fingers closed about a warm ankle: "Pardon, monsieur!" came a quick whisper. I let go. "Is that you, Yvonne?" "Si, monsieur." "I never heard you come in." "I have come this moment, and did not see monsieur in the dark. Madame has sent me. Monsieur cannot find that little bag?" "No. Do you think I might strike a match?" "Ah, no, monsieur, not in the Opera House, They are so particular." "I see--at least, I don't, and that's the trouble. However--" I felt over the balcony again. No good. "Where did mademoiselle sit, monsieur?" "Where are you?" I groped in the direction of the whisper and found an arm. "In that chair there," I said, guiding her to it. "Here, monsieur?" "Yes, that's right." I heard her hands groping about the chair and turned to try the floor on the other side again. "I have it, monsieur." "Well," said I, "I could have sworn I'd felt everywhere round that chair." She chinked the bag by way of answer.