“We have come here,” said he hurriedly, “upon a matter of some moment. My friend, M. Gaston de Gandelu, is about to leave Paris for some months, and, before doing so, is anxious to settle all outstanding accounts, and retire all his bills, which may not yet have fallen due.”
“Have I any bills of M. de Gandelu?” said Van Klopen slowly. “Ah, yes, I remember that I had some now. Yes, five bills of one thousand francs each, drawn by Gandelu, and accepted by Martin Rigal. I received them from the Mutual Loan Society, but they are no longer in my hands.”
“Is that the case?” murmured Gaston, growing sick with apprehension.
“Yes, I sent them to my cloth merchants at St. Etienne, Rollon and Company.”
Van Klopen was a clever scoundrel, but he sometimes lacked the necessary perception of when he had said enough; and this was proved to-day, for, agitated by the steady gaze that Andre kept upon him, he added,—
“If you do not believe my word, I can show you the acknowledgment that I received from that firm.”
“It is unnecessary,” replied Andre. “Your statement is quite sufficient.”
“I should prefer to let you see the letter.”
“No, thank you,” replied Andre, not for a moment duped by the game that was being played. “Pray take no more trouble. We shall, I presume, find that the bills are at St. Etienne. There is no use in taking any more trouble about them, and we will wait until they arrive at maturity. I have the honor to wish you good morning.”
And with these words he dragged away Gaston, who was actually about to consult Van Klopen as to the most becoming costume for Zora to appear in on leaving the prison of St. Lazare. When they were a few doors from the man-milliner’s, Andre stopped and wrote down the names of Van Klopen’s cloth merchants. Gaston was now quite at his ease.