"Why, I did not know that the signature was not genuine." This insolent denial aroused the unhappy Gaston from his state of stupor.
"This is too much, a deuced deal too much," cried he.

"Did you not yourself tell me that, for your own security, you must insist upon another name in addition to mine?
Did you not give me a letter, and say, 'Write a signature like the one at the bottom of this, it is that of Martin Rigal, the banker in the Rue Montmartre' ?" "An utterly false accusation, without a shadow of proof; and remember that a libel uttered in the presence of a third party is punishable by law." "And yet, sir," continued Andre, "you did not hesitate for a moment in discounting these bills.

Have you calculated what terrible results may come of this breach of faith on your part ?--what will happen if this forged signature is presented to M.Martin Rigal ?" "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.