Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back.
"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you will see my initials there and the date."
Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials and date were there.
Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man, but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very slowly.
"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an issue—that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you solemnly—is this story of yours word for word a true one?"
Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation.
"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!"
Monsieur Grisson held out his hand.
"Thank you!" he said.
The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of France dipped his pen in the ink.