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 Prefet."

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 mistaking and that was the complete similarity of the two curves.

In either fruit the rounded arch was bent according to the same
inflection. The two semicircles could have fitted one into the other,
both very narrow, both a little long-shaped and oval and of a restricted
radius which was the very character of the jaw.

The men did not speak a word. M. Desmalions raised his head. Mme.
Fauville did not move, stood livid and mad with terror. But all the
sentiments of terror, stupor and indignation that she might simulate with
her mobile face and her immense gifts as an actress, did not prevail
against the compelling proof that presented itself to every eye.

The two imprints were identical! The same teeth had bitten into
both apples!

"Madame--" the Prefect of Police began.

"No, no," she cried, seized with a fit of fury, "no, it's not
true.... This is all just a nightmare.... No, you are never going to
arrest me? I in prison! Why, it's horrible!... What have I done? Oh, I
swear that you are mistaken--"

She took her head between her hands.

"Oh, my brain is throbbing as if it would burst! What does all this mean?
I have done no wrong.... I knew nothing. It was you who told me this
morning.... Could I have suspected? My poor husband ... and t