Clarisse consulted M. Nicole with a glance which did not escape Prasville. Then she said:
“Here it is.”
He seized the scrap of paper with a certain excitement, examined it and almost immediately said:
“Yes, yes . . . the secretary’s writing: I recognize it.... And the signature of the chairman of the company: the signature in red.... Besides, I have other proofs.... For instance, the torn piece which completes the left-hand top corner of this sheet....”
He opened his safe and, from a special cash-box, produced a tiny piece of paper which he put against the top left corner:
“That’s right. The torn edges fit exactly. The proof is undeniable. All that remains is to verify the make of this foreign-post-paper.”
Clarisse was radiant with delight. No one would have believed that the most terrible torture had racked her for weeks and weeks and that she was still bleeding and quivering from its effects.
While Prasville was holding the paper against a window-pane, she said to Lupin:
“I insist upon having Gilbert informed this evening. He must be so awfully unhappy!”
“Yes,” said Lupin. “Besides, you can go to his lawyer and tell him.”