The Champdoce Mystery by Emile Gaboriau (crime books to read TXT) 📕

Andre, however, who had arranged the narrative that he was about to pour into the ears of the famous Van Klopen, was in too much haste to permit of any unnecessary delay.

“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.

“I think,” remarked he, “that Van Klopen is a sharp fellow; he knows that I am to be relied on.”

“Where do you think your bills are?”

“At St. Etienne’s, of course.”

The perfect innocence of the boy elicited from Andre a gesture of impatient commiseration.

“Listen to me,” said he, “and see if you can comprehend the awful position in which you have placed yourself.”

“I am listening, my dear fellow; pray go on.”

“You drew these bills through Verminet because Van Klopen would not give you credit.”

“Exactly so.”

“How, then, do you account for the fact that this man, who was at first disinclined to trust you, should without rhyme or reason, offer to supply you now as he did to-day?”

“The deuce! That never struck me. It does seem queer. Does he want to play me a nasty trick? But which of them is it—Verminet or Van Klopen?”

“It is plain to me that the pair of them have entered into a pleasant little plot to blackmail you.”

Young Gandelu did not at all like this turn, and he exclaimed,—

“Blackmail me, indeed! why, I know my way about better than that. They won’t get much out of me, I can tell you.”

Andre shrugged his shoulders.

“Then,” said he, “just tell me what you intend to say to Verminet when he comes to you upon the day your bills fall due, and says to you, ‘Give me one hundred thousand francs for these five little bits of paper, or I go straight to your father with them’?”

“I should say, of course—ah, well, I really do not know what I should say.”

“You could say nothing, except that you had been imposed on in the most infamous way. You would plead for time, and Verminet would give it to you if you would execute a deed insuring him one hundred thousand francs on the day you came of age.”

“A hundred thousand devils are all the rogue would get from me. That’s the way I do things, do you see? If people try and ride roughshod over me, I merely hit out, and then just look out for broken bones. Pay this chap? Not I! I know the governor would make an almighty shine, but I’ll choose that sooner than be had like that.”

He was quite serious but could only put his feelings into the language he usually spoke.

“I think,” answered Andre, “that your father would forgive this imprudence, but that it will be even harder for him to do so than it was to send a doctor to number the hours he had to live. He will forgive you because he is your father, and because he loves you; but Verminet, when he finds that the threat to go to your father does not appall you, will menace you with criminal proceedings.”

“Hulloo!” said Gandelu, stopping short. “I say, that is very poor fun,” gasped he.

“There is no fun in it, for such fun, when brought to the notice of a court of justice, goes by the ugly name of forgery, and forgery means a swinging heavy sentence.”

Gaston turned pale, and trembled from head to foot.

“Tried and sentenced,” faltered he. “No, I don’t believe you, but I hold no honors and will turn up my cards.” He quite forgot that he was in the public street, and was talking at the top of his shrill falsetto voice, and gesticulating violently.

“The poor old governor, I might have made him so happy, and, after all, I have only been a torment to him. Ah, could I but begin once more; but then the cards are dealt, and I must go on with the game, and I have made a nice muddle of the whole thing before I am twenty years of age; but no criminal courts for me, no, the easiest way out of it is a pistol shot, for I am an honest man’s son, and I will not bring more disgrace on him than I have already done.”

“Do you really mean what you say?” asked Andre.

“Of course I do. I can be firm enough sometimes.”

“Then we will not despair yet,” answered the young painter. “I think that we shall be able to settle this ugly business, but you cannot be too cautious. Keep indoors, and remember that I may have urgent need of you at almost any time of day or night.”

“I agree, but remember this, Zora is not to be forgotten.”

“Don’t fret over that; I will call and see her to-morrow. And