can only have a fortunate result for you. If you don't mind, therefore"
She raised her hand higher and yet higher, with a slowness that betrayed her uneasiness. And really, in the fashion in which things were happening, the scene was marked by a certain solemnity and tragedy that wrung every heart.
"And, if I refuse?" she asked, suddenly.
"You are absolutely entitled to refuse," said the Prefect of Police. "But is it worth while, Madame? I am sure that your counsel would be the first to advise you"
"My counsel?" she stammered, understanding the formidable meaning conveyed by that reply.
And, suddenly, with a fierce resolve and the almost ferocious air that contorts the face when great dangers threaten, she made the movement which they were pressing her to make. She opened her mouth. They saw the gleam of the white teeth. At one bite, the white teeth dug into the fruit.
"There you are, Monsieur," she said.
M. Desmalions turned to the examining magistrate.
"Have you the apple found in the garden?"
"Here, Monsieur le Préfet."
M. Desmalions put the two apples side by side.
And those who crowded round him, anxiously looking on, all uttered one exclamation.
The two marks of teeth were identical.
Identical! Certainly, before declaring the identity of every detail, the absolute analogy of the marks of each tooth, they must wait for the results of the expert's report. But there was one thing which there was no mis-
