“Proofs against Pyrot,” answered General Panther with patriotic satisfaction.  “We had not got them when we convicted him, but we have plenty of them now.”

The door was open, and Greatauk saw coming up the stair-case a long file of porters who were unloading heavy bales of papers in the hall, and he saw the lift slowly rising heavily loaded with paper packets.

“What are those others?” said he.

“They are fresh proofs against Pyrot that are now reaching us,” said Panther.  “I have asked for them in every county of Penguinia, in every Staff Office and in every Court in Europe.  I have ordered them in every town in America and in Australia, and in every factory in Africa, and I am expecting bales of them from Bremen and a ship-load from Melbourne.”  And Panther turned towards the Minister of War the tranquil and radiant look of a hero.  However, Greatauk, his eye-glass in his eye, was looking at the formidable pile of papers with less satisfaction than uneasiness.

“Very good,” said he, “very good! but I am afraid that this Pyrot business may lose its beautiful simplicity.  It was limpid; like a rock-crystal its value lay in its transparency.  You could have searched it in vain with a magnifying-glass for a straw, a bend, a blot, for the least fault.  When it left my hands it was as pure as the light.  Indeed it was the light.  I give you a pearl and you make a mountain out of it.  To tell you the truth I am afraid that by wishing to do too well you have done less well.  Proofs! of course it is good to have proofs, but perhaps it is better to have none at all.  I have already told you, Panther, there is only one irrefutable proof, the confession of the guilty person (or if the innocent what matter!).  The Pyrot affair, as I arranged it, left no room for criticism; there was no spot where it could be touched.  It defied assault.  It was invulnerable because it was invisible.  Now it gives an enormous handle for discussion.  I advise you, Panther, to use your paper packets with great reserve.  I should be particularly grateful if you would be more sparing of your communications to journalists.  You speak well, but you say too much.  Tell me, Panther, are there any forged documents among these?”

“There are some adapted ones.”

“That is what I meant.  There are some adapted ones.  So much the better.  As proofs, forged documents, in general, are better than genuine ones, first of all because they have been expressly made to suit the needs of the case, to order and measure, and therefore they are fitting and exact.  They are also preferable because they carry the mind into an ideal world and turn it aside from the reality which, alas! in this world is never without some alloy. . . .  Nevertheless, I think I should have preferred, Panther, that we had no proofs at all.”