“But to enable us to do so, you must first let us know the name of the party who discounted them.”
“I don’t know; I have forgotten,” answered Verminet, with a careless wave of his hand.
“Then,” returned Andre, in a low, deep voice of concentrated fury, “let me advise you, for your own sake, to make an immediate call upon your powers of memory.”
“Do you threaten me?”
“And if you do not succeed in remembering the name or names, the consequences may be more serious than you seem to anticipate.”
Verminet saw that the young painter was in dangerous earnest, and rose from his chair, but Andre was too quick for him.
“No,” said he, placing his back against the door; “you will not leave this room until you have done what I require.”
For fully ten minutes the men stood gazing at each other. Verminet was green with terror, while Andre’s face, though pale, was firm and determined.
“If the scoundrel makes any resistance,” said he to himself, “I will fling him out of the window.”
“The man is a perfect athlete,” thought Verminet, “and looks as if he would stick at nothing.”