“Unbutton your vest,” said the judge, “and make your comparison with care—with all the care that you think wise. The question has some importance.”
Florentin felt it only too much, the importance of this question, but as it was set before him, he could not but answer frankly.
He unbuttoned his waistcoat, and compared the button with his.
“I believe that it is really the button that I lost,” he said.
Although he endeavored not to betray his anguish, he felt that his voice trembled, and that it had a hoarse sound. Then he wished to explain this emotion.
“This is a truly terrible position for me,” he said.
The judge did not reply.
“But because I lost a button at Monsieur Caffie’s, it does not follow that it was torn off in a struggle.”
“You have your theory, and you will make the most of it, but this is not the place. I have only one more question to ask: By what button have you replaced the one you lost?”
“By the first one I came across.”