“Very unlikely.  Gandelu is the drawer, Rigal merely the endorser.  Bills, when due, are always presented to the drawer,” returned Verminet laconically.

Evidently a trap had been laid for Gaston, but the reason was still buried in obscurity.

“Then,” remarked Andre, “we have but one course to pursue:  we must trace those notes to the hands in which they now are, and take them up.”

“Quite right.”

“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.”

Seeing that he had better give in, the managing director took up a bulky ledger, and began to turn over the leaves with trembling fingers.

Andre saw that he was holding it upside-down.

“There it is,” cried Verminet at last.

“Bills for five thousand francs.  Gandelu and Rigal, booked for discount to Van Klopen, ladies’ tailor.”

Andre was silent.

Why was it that Verminet had suggested Rigal’s signature as the one he ought to imitate?  And why had he handed the bills over to Van Klopen?  Was it mere chance that had arranged it all?  He did not believe it, but felt sure that some secret tie united them all together, Verminet, Van Klopen, Rigal, and the Marquis de Croisenois.

“Do you want anything more?” asked the manager of the Mutual Loan Society.

“Are the bills in Van Klopen’s hands?”

“I can’t say.”

“Never mind, he will have to tell me where they are, if he has not got them,” returned Andre.

They left the house, and as soon as they were again in the street Andre took his companion’s arm, and hurried him off in the direction of the Rue de Grammont.

“I don’t want to give this thief, Verminet, time to warn Van Klopen of what has taken place; I had rather fall upon him with the suddenness of an earthquake.  Come, let us go to his establishment at once.”