Prasville put out his hand, took the thing up and inspected it. It was a block of crystal, imitating nature to perfection, with all the details of the eyeball, the iris, the pupil, the cornea.
He at once saw a movable part at the back, which slid in a groove. He pushed it. The eye was hollow.
There was a tiny ball of paper inside. He unfolded it, smoothed it out and, quickly, without delaying to make a preliminary examination of the names, the hand-writing or the signatures, he raised his arms and turned the paper to the light from the windows.
“Is the cross of Lorraine there?” asked M. Nicole.
“Yes, it is there,” replied Prasville. “This is the genuine list.”
He hesitated a few seconds and remained with his arms raised, while reflecting what he would do. Then he folded up the paper again, replaced it in its little crystal sheath and put the whole thing in his pocket. M. Nicole, who was looking at him, asked:
“Are you convinced?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then we are agreed?”
“We are agreed.”