Suddenly, he leaped from
the chair and walked away from it. He had heard the sound of
approaching footsteps. Mon. Andermatt appeared at the door.
"You! You!" exclaimed the banker. "Was it you who brought me
here?"
"I? By no means," protested Varin, in a rough, jerky voice that
reminded me of his brother, "on the contrary, it was your letter
that brought me here."
"My letter?"
"A letter signed by you, in which you offered---"
"I never wrote to you," declared Mon. Andermatt.
"You did not write to me!"
Instinctively, Varin was put on his guard, not against the banker,
but against the unknown enemy who had drawn him into this trap. A
second time, he looked in our direction, then walked toward the
door. But Mon. Andermatt barred his passage.
"Well, where are you going, Varin?"
"There is something about this affair I don't like. I am going
home. Good evening."
"One moment!"
"No need of that, Mon. Andermatt. I have nothing to say to you."
"But I have something to say to you, and this is a good time to say
it."
"Let me pass."
"No, you will not pass."
Varin recoiled before the resolute attitude of the banker, as he
muttered:
"Well, then, be quick about it.
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