ch he
had had no time to remove. He presented a paper to Monsieur Grisson and
bowed. The President spread it out upon the table, and the faces of the
three men as they read became a study. Monsieur Grisson rang the bell.

"Monsieur le Duc de Bergillac and a young English gentleman," he told
the attendant, "are in my private retiring-room. Desire their presence."

The servant withdrew. The three men looked at one another.

"If this is genuine!" the younger murmured.

"It is the Russian official paper," his _vis-a-vis_ declared, holding it
up to the light.

Then the Duc de Bergillac and Guy Poynton were ushered in. Monsieur
Grisson rose to his feet.

"Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to
what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation
that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was
blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris
with you. Look at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the
one."

Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back.

"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you
will see my initials there and the date."

Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over
his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials
and date were there.

Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man,
but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very
slowly.

"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an
issue--that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the
simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in
which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with
distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions
of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions
of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you
solemnly--is this story of yours word for word a true one?"

Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation.

"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!"

Monsieur Grisson held out his hand.

"Thank you!" he said.

The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of
France dipped his pen in the ink.

"Gentlemen," he said, "do you agree with me that I shall sign this
draft?"

"We do!" they both an