And Mme. Giry caught Mr. Manager Richard a mighty box on the ear, before Mr. Manager Mencharmin had time to intervene. But it was not the withered hand of the angry old beldame that fell on the managerial ear, but the envelope itself, the cause of all the trouble, the magic envelope that opened with the blow, scattering the bank-notes, which escaped in a fantastic whirl of giant butterflies.

The two managers gave a shout, and the same thought made them both go on their knees, feverishly, picking up and hurriedly examining the precious scraps of paper.

`Are they still genuine, Moncharmin?'

`Are they still genuine, Richard?'

`Yes, they are still genuine!'

Above their heads, Mme. Giry's three teeth were clashing in a noisy contest, full of hideous interjections. But all that could be dearly distinguished was this Leit-motif:

`I, a thief!...I, a thief, I?'

She choked with rage. She shouted:

`I never heard of such a thing!'

And, suddenly, she darted up to Richard again.

`In any case,' she yelped, `you, M. Richard, ought to know better than I where the twenty thousand francs went to!'

`I?' asked Richard, astounded. `And how should I know?'

Moncharmin, looking severe and dissatisfied, at once insisted that the good lady should explain herself.

`What does this mean, Mme. Giry?' he asked. `And why do you say that M. Richard ought to know better than you where the twenty-thousand francs went to?'

As for Richard, who felt himself turning red under Moncharmin's eyes, he took Mme. Giry by the wrist and shook it violently. In a voice growling and rolling like thunder, he roared:

`Why should I know better than you where the twenty-thousand francs went to? Why? Answer me!'

`Because they went into your pocket!' gasped the old woman, looking at him as if he were the devil incarnate.

Richard would have rushed upon Mme. Giry, if Moncharmin had not stayed his avenging hand and hastened to ask her, more gently:

`How can you suspect my partner, M. Richard, of putting twenty-thousand francs in his pocket?'

`I never said that,' declared Mme. Giry, `seeing that it was myself who put the twenty-thousand francs into M. Richard's pocket.' And she added, under her voice, `There! It's out!...And may the ghost forgive me!'

Richard began bellowing anew, but Moncharmin authoritatively ordered him to be silent.

`Allow me! Allow me! Let the woman explain herself. Let me question her.' And he added: `It is really astonishing that you should take up such a tone!...We are on the verge of clearing up the whole mystery. And you're in a rage!...You're wrong to behave like that... I'm enjoying myself immensely.'

Mme. Giry, like the martyr that she was, raised her head, her face beaming with faith in her own innocence.