Todd jerked out the document. Ronsard held him.
"Wait; there is something damnable in that still white thing there in the rickshaw. Wait and see whether it is really Madame la Princesse, or a substitute."
Haganè stared one moment upon the speaker with lips that writhed backward, showing teeth like a baited boar. "His Excellency is always prudent. See, gentlemen, for yourselves, that I have brought my wife. Mr. Todd, have the document ready!"
With an almost imperceptible motion Haganè slipped from its nail the black, taut twine that held the lowered hood. It rattled back with the noise of the spokes of a giant fan. Yuki sat upright,—the full moon just behind her,—smiling. The little hands were clasped tightly in her lap. The coils of her orchid hair had the glint and sheen of the crow's wing.
"It is Yuki,—certainement!" screamed Pierre, in ecstasy.
"Hold back that paper!" roared Ronsard.
Todd stood on tiptoe. One long thin arm went up like the derrick of a dredging-machine. His hand held something square and white with a black blotch on it. The arm lowered. Haganè reached up, took the paper, and thrust it deep into the breast of his coolie robe.
"The paper—" groaned Ronsard; "it is gone forever!"
"But Yuki," cried Pierre, "has come to be mine forever!"
"One moment, gentlemen," said Haganè, again restraining Pierre. "You were all present at the agreement between Monsieur Le Beau and me. The paper is now regained, and here is its price; here is Onda Yuki-ko." He placed the shafts of the little vehicle on the lowest stair, and stepped out sheer upon the walk. Pierre, like an animal released, sprang to Yuki, knelt by her, caught her hands, and began whispering words of love.