"Have you ever seen him, have you seen the Opera ghost?"
The inspector, by means of a vigorous shake of the head, denied ever
having seen the ghost in question.
"Very well!" said M. Richard coldly.
The inspector's eyes started out of his head, as though to ask why the
manager had uttered that ominous "Very well!"
"Because I'm going to settle the account of any one who has not seen
him!" explained the manager. "As he seems to be everywhere, I can't
have people telling me that they see him nowhere. I like people to
work for me when I employ them!"
Having said this, M. Richard paid no attention to the inspector and
discussed various matters of business with his acting-manager, who had
entered the room meanwhile. The inspector thought he could go and was
gently--oh, so gently!--sidling toward the door, when M. Richard nailed
the man to the floor with a thundering: "Stay where you are!"
M. Remy had sent for the box-keeper to the Rue de Provence, close to
the Opera, where she was engaged as a porteress. She soon made her
appearance.
"What's your name?"
"Mme. Giry. You know me well enough, sir; I'm the mother of little
Giry, little Meg, what!"
This was said in so rough and solemn a tone that, for a moment, M.
Richard was impressed. He looked at Mme. Giry, in her faded shawl, her
worn shoes, her old taffeta dress and dingy bonnet. It was quite
evident from the manager's attitude, that he either did not know or
could not remember having met Mme. Giry, nor even little Giry, nor even
"little Meg!" But Mme. Giry's pride was so great that the celebrated
box-keeper imagined that everybody knew her.
"Never heard of her!" the manager declared. "But that's no reason,
Mme. Giry, why I shouldn't ask you what happened last night to make you
and the inspector call in a municipal guard."
"I was just wanting to see you, sir, and talk to you about it, so that
you mightn't have the same unpleasantness as M. Debienne and M.
Poligny. They wouldn't listen to me either, at first."
"I'm not asking you about all that. I'm asking what happened last
night."
Mme. Giry turned purple with indignation. Never had she been spoken to
like that. She rose as though to go, gathering up the folds of her
skirt and waving the feathers of her dingy bonnet with dignity, but,
changing her mind, she sat down again and said, in a haughty voice: "I'll tell you what happened. The ghost was annoyed again!"
Thereupon, as M. Richard was on the point of bursting out, M.
Moncharmin interfered and conducted the interrogatory, whence it
appeared that Mme. Giry thought it quite natural that a voice should be
heard to say that a box was taken, when there was nobody in the box.
She was unable to explain this phenomenon, which was not new to her,
except by the intervention of the ghost. Nobody could see the ghost in
his box, but everybody could hear him. She had often heard him; and
they could believe her, for she always spoke the truth. They could ask
M. Debienne and M. Poligny, and anybody who knew her; and also M.
Isidore Saack, who had had a leg broken by the ghost!