“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.” CHAPTER XXIV. THE VANISHING BILLS. Had Andre known a little more of the man he had to deal with, he would have learned that no one could fall like an earthquake upon Van Klopen. Shut up in the sanctum where he composed the numberless costumes that were the wonder and delight of Paris, Van Klopen made as careful arrangements to secure himself from the interview as the Turk does to guard the approaches to his seraglio; and so Andre and Gandelu were accosted in the entrance hall by his stately footmen, clad in gorgeous liveries, glittering with gold. “M. van Klopen is of the utmost importance,” asserted Andre. “Our master is composing.”