the nice lad's hand, "I--I've lost something and I want you
to--to help me find it."

"Yes'm," says Nat. He's the soul of politeness.

"It must be here--it must be in this room," says the lady,
getting wild with the terror of losing. "I'm
sure--positive--that I went straight to the shoe-bag and slipped
it in there. And now I can't find it, and I must have it before I
go out this afternoon for--for a very special reason. My daughter
Evelyn will be home to-morrow and--why don't you look for it?"

"What is it, ma'am?"

"I told you once. My key--a little flat key that locks--a box
I've got," she finishes distrustfully.

"Have you looked in the shoe-bag, ma'am?"

"Why, of course I have, you little stupid. I want you to hunt
other places where I can't easily get. There are other places I
might have put it, but I'm positive it was in the shoe-bag."

Well, I looked for that key. Where? Where not? I looked under the
rubbish in the waste-paper basket; Mrs. Kingdon often fooled
thieves by dropping it there. I pulled up the corner of the
carpet and looked there--it was loose; it had often been used for
a hiding-place. I looked in Miss Evelyn's boot and in her ribbon
box. I emptied Mrs. Kingdon's full powder box. I climbed ladders
and felt along cornices. I looked through the pockets of Mrs.