o hasty, sir. You have not allowed me to
explain; and perhaps what I desire is impossible. I came on the impulse
of the moment, without any knowledge on the subject. Before you set to
work, I must know if what you can do will answer my purpose."

"Speak, madame."

"Will the copy you obtain be precisely like the original in every
particular?"

"In every particular."

"The writing will be the same--exactly the same?"

"Absolutely the same."

"So like, that if one of your photographs should be presented to the
person who wrote this letter----"

"He could no more deny his handwriting than he could if some one handed
him the letter itself."

"And the operation will leave no trace on the original?"

"None."

A smile of triumph played upon Mademoiselle Marguerite's lips. It was as
she had thought; the defensive plan which she had suddenly conceived was
a good one. "One more question, sir," she resumed. "I am only a poor,
ignorant girl: excuse me, and give me the benefit of your knowledge.
This letter will be returned to its author to-morrow, and he will burn
it. But afterward, in case of any difficulty--in case of a law-suit--or
in case it should be necessary for me to prove certain things which one
might establish by means of this letter, would one of your photographs
be admitted as evidence?"

The photographer did not answer for a moment. Now he understood
Mademoiselle Marguerite's motive, and the importance she attached to a
facsimile. But this imparted an unexpected gravity to the service he was
called upon to perform. He therefore wished some time for reflection,
and he scrutinized Mademoiselle Marguerite as if he were trying to read
her very soul. Was it possible that this young girl, with such a pure
and noble brow, and with such frank, honest eyes, could be meditating
any cowardly, dishonorable act? No, he could not believe it. In whom,
or in what, could he trust if such a countenance deceived him? "My
facsimile would certainly be admitted as evidence," he replied at last;
"and this would not be the first time that the decision of a court has
depended on proofs which have been photographed by me."

Meanwhile, his assistant had returned, bringing the necessary apparatus
with him. When all was ready, the photographer asked her, "Will you give
me the letter, madame?"

She hesitated for a second--only for a second. The man's honest, kindly
face told her that he would not betray her, that he would rather gi