He went to a cupboard, and presently produced from it a photograph mounted on brown paper, which he presented to his visitor.
“You must not judge from it,” he said, “more than you would from the shadow of an apple tree the colour of its blossom. But is it not a beautiful face, Monsieur?”
“Beautiful, indeed,” answered Le Sage, profoundly pre-occupied. “And did the brother know you had secured this transcript?” he asked presently.
“Of a truth not, Monsieur. Sooner would I have died than tell him.”
“Ah!” For minutes longer the Baron stood absorbed in contemplation of the photograph. Then suddenly he looked up.
“I want you to part with this to me, my friend.”
“Monsieur, it is yours. There is none to whom I would sooner confide it.”
“You have the negative?”
“Truly, yes.”
“Keep it, and print no more from it for the present. Above all, keep the knowledge of your possessing it from the Goth.”