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Updated: May 26, 2025
Do me the favor, sir, to come with us." He was about to follow his guests, when one of the ladies started forward. "One word with you, sir, for goodness sake!" cried she. Van Klopen turned sharply upon her. "What is the matter?" asked he. "My bill for three thousand francs falls due to-morrow." "Very likely." "But I can't meet it." "That is not my affair."
The door was at this moment opened quietly, and Van Klopen appeared on the threshold. He was about forty-four, and too stout for his height. His red, pimply face had an expression upon it of extreme insolence, and his accent was thoroughly Dutch. He was dressed in a ruby velvet dressing-gown, with a cravat with lace ends. A huge cluster-diamond ring blazed on his coarse, red hand.
"M. van Klopen is of the utmost importance," asserted Andre. "Our master is composing."
The only nuisance is, that to make matters run a bit smooth, I wrote down the wrong name. Do you tumble, eh?" "But, great heavens! that is forgery," said Andre, aghast. "Not a bit, for I always intended to pay; besides, I wanted the money to square Van Klopen. You know him, I suppose?" "No." "Well, he is the chap to dress a girl.
"Good, very good; he was told to pay himself, and yet he never looked to see if the money was there, but gave a receipt at once. Of course, as Van Klopen kept the pocketbook, the Marquis could have had nothing in it besides the exact sum that was required." "It does seem odd," muttered De Breulh. "But," said Andre, "your bill was not exactly twenty thousand francs, was it?"
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