“An undoubted forgery. It was an admirable piece of cunning on Daubrecq’s part. Dazzled by the crystal stopper which he flashed before your eyes, you did nothing but look for that stopper in which he had stowed away no matter what, the first bit of paper that came to hand, while he quietly kept....”
Prasville interrupted himself. Clarisse was walking up to him with short, stiff steps, like an automaton. She said:
“Then....”
“Then what, dear friend?”
“You refuse?”
“Certainly, I am obliged to; I have no choice.”
“You refuse to take that step?”
“Look here, how can I do what you ask? It’s not possible, on the strength of a valueless document....”
“You won’t do it?... You won’t do it?... And, to-morrow morning . . . in a few hours . . . Gilbert....”
She was frightfully pale, her face sunk, like the face of one dying. Her eyes opened wider and wider and her teeth chattered....