“M. Kaufmann, who will witness the signatures with me.” The head clerk looked in surprise at the extra lights.
“It is said that there may be a strike of the electricians quite suddenly to-night,” said M. Meunier shortly.
“Tiens!” muttered the head clerk, who did not seem to find the arrangements particularly welcome.
M. Meunier drew out two long papers from an inner pocket.
“We will sign now, mademoiselle, if you are ready. These are duplicates of one another. I shall keep the one, and the other will in due course reach our friend. I will sign first, and then if you will write your name here in this blank and then here”—he pointed out two blanks—“these gentleman will witness them both.”
Christine watched his firm signature flourish. “Charles Bonnot”—the name of a member of the famous Lyons Silk house.
Then he handed her a pen and drew out a chair for her.
“Do not be nervous, mademoiselle,” and his hand pressed her shoulder for a second to reinforce his meaning.
Christine felt her heart beating violently. It was all very well for him to reassure her, but they were but two against unknown odds.
She signed, and made way for the head clerk, who stood waiting for his turn, with one hand pressed on his waistcoat, and with a face now red, now white.