to print six impressions from each, and to return both prints and plates to me. The results have only reached me this morning. Here they are. There cannot be the slightest doubt that these are my plates, that they have not in any way been tampered with, that they have simply been developed by ordinary processes, and that these prints are merely reproductions from the plates. Yet, when I saw these prints, I did what I think you will do—I stared. Mr. Paley, here is the result of the first exposure."
The doctor handed Mr. Paley a photograph. The governor directly he saw it gave utterance to an exclamation.
"Doctor! You are dreaming."
"I assure you I am not Mr. Dodsworth, allow me to hand you a print from the first exposure. Mr. Murray, allow me to hand you one. Mr. Dodsworth, you perceive that the laugh is now upon your side."
The photograph which the doctor had handed round was not the photograph of a man at all, but of a woman. She was costumed in ordinary feminine attire. She wore no covering on her head. She was seated squarely on the chair on which prisoners were wont to sit when enjoying the luxury of having their likenesses taken at their country's expense. She was looking straight at the camera. And in the eyes there was a certain defiance, and upon her face a look of stern, resolute determination, which is not in general to be noted upon the countenances of those triumphs of the photographer's art with which we adorn our albums.
"Honestly, doctor," inquired the governor, "aren't
