“The ordinary brown leather, with strappings and C.G. on one side. Just like a thousand other boxes, but it had a label, beside the initials. I don’t see how anyone can have taken it by mistake.” She set her teeth, and her head took a defiant tilt. “There’s one comfort; if it is stolen, whoever has taken it will not get much for her pains! There’s nothing in it but skirts. Skirts won’t be much good without the bodices to match!”

The man looked down at her, his expression comically compounded of sympathy and humour. At that moment, despite the irregularity of his features, he looked wonderfully like his handsome mother.

“Er—just so! Unfortunately, however, from the opposite point of view, you find yourself in the same position! Bodices, I presume, without skirts—”

Claire groaned, and held up a protesting hand.

“Don’t! I can’t bear it. It’s really devastating. My whole outfit—at one fell sweep!”

“Isn’t it—excuse my suggesting it—rather a mistake to—er—divide pieces of the same garment, so that if one trunk should be lost, the loss practically extends to two?”

“No, it isn’t. It’s the only sensible thing to do,” Claire said obstinately. “Skirts must be packed at full length, and a dress-box is made for that very purpose. All the same, I shall never do it again. It’s no use being sensible if you have to contend with—thieves!”

“I don’t think we need leap to that conclusion just yet. You have only spoken to two or three porters. We’d better wait about a few minutes longer until the other men come back. Very likely the box was put on a truck by accident, and if the mistake was discovered before it was put on the taxi, it would be sent back to see if its owner were waiting here. If it doesn’t turn up at once, you mustn’t be discouraged. The odds are ten to one that it’s only a mistake, and in that case when the taxi is unloaded, the box will be sent back to the lost luggage office, or forwarded to your address. Was the full address on the box, by the way?”

Claire nodded assent.

“Oh, yes; I have that poor satisfaction at least. I was most methodical and prudent, but I don’t know that that’s going to be much consolation if I lose my nice frocks, and am too poor to buy any more.”

The last phrase was prompted by a proud determination to sail under no false colours in the eyes of Mrs Fanshawe’s son; but the picture 

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