Then something happened which I shall never forget.
He suddenly dropped a tiny bag, which he was holding in his left hand; though indeed it was not a bag, but rather a little box, or more probably some part of a pocket-book, or to be more accurate a little reticule, rather like an old-fashioned lady's reticule, though I really don't know what it was.

I only know that I flew to pick it up.
I am convinced that I did not really pick it up, but my first motion was unmistakable.

I could not conceal it, and, like a fool, I turned crimson.

The cunning fellow at once got all that could be got out of the circumstance.
"Don't trouble, I'll pick it up," he pronounced charmingly; that is, when he was quite sure that I was not going to pick up the reticule, he picked it up as though forestalling me, nodded once more, and went his way, leaving me to look like a fool.

It was as good as though I had picked it up myself.