Andre’s face grew radiant.
“Good, very good; he was told to pay himself, and yet he never looked to see if the money was there, but gave a receipt at once. Of course, as Van Klopen kept the pocketbook, the Marquis could have had nothing in it besides the exact sum that was required.”
“It does seem odd,” muttered De Breulh.
“But,” said Andre, “your bill was not exactly twenty thousand francs, was it?”
“No,” answered the Viscountess. “I ought to have had change to the amount of a hundred or a hundred and twenty francs, but I suppose he was too much excited to give it me.”
“But for all that he could remember that he had writing materials with him, and gave you a receipt?”
The Viscountess was utterly bewildered.
“And,” continued Andre, “how is it that Van Klopen knew De Croisenois’ name? And now, lastly, where is the receipt?”
Madame de Bois Arden turned very pale and trembled violently.
“Ah,” said she, “I felt sure that something was going to happen, and it was on this very point that I wanted your advice. Well, I have not got the receipt. M. de Croisenois crumpled it up in his hand and threw it on the table. After a while, however, he took it up and put it in his pocket.”