It was nearly dusk as the searchers from the yacht were returning toward the beach.
They had found no sign of human habitation in the little valley, nor anywhere along the coast that they had so carefully explored.
The commander of the expedition, Captain Cecil Burlinghame, a retired naval officer, was in advance.
They had penetrated the woods nearly to the beach when his foot struck against a package wrapped in the skin of a small rodent.
He stooped and picked it up.
“Here is the first evidence that another human being than ourselves has ever set foot upon this island,” he said as he cut the gut lacing with his pocket knife.
Within the first wrapping he found a chamois-bag such as women sometimes use to carry jewels about their persons.
From this he emptied into his palm a dozen priceless rings, a few old-fashioned brooches, bracelets, and lockets.
In one of the latter he discovered the ivory miniature of a woman—a very beautiful woman.
In the other side of the locket was engraved: “To Eugénie Marie Céleste de la Valois, Countess of Crecy, from Henri, her husband. 17th January, 18—”
