g hand, for, this time, in order frequently
to make sure of the presence of the notes, he had not sealed the
envelope nor even fastened it. He felt reassured on finding that they
were all there and quite genuine. He put them back in the tail-pocket
and pinned them with great care. Then he sat down behind Richard's
coat-tails and kept his eyes fixed on them, while Richard, sitting at
his writing-table, did not stir.

"A little patience, Richard," said Moncharmin. "We have only a few
minutes to wait ... The clock will soon strike twelve. Last time, we
left at the last stroke of twelve."

"Oh, I shall have all the patience necessary!"

The time passed, slow, heavy, mysterious, stifling. Richard tried to
laugh.

"I shall end by believing in the omnipotence of the ghost," he said.
"Just now, don't you find something uncomfortable, disquieting,
alarming in the atmosphere of this room?"

"You're quite right," said Moncharmin, who was really impressed.

"The ghost!" continued Richard, in a low voice, as though fearing lest
he should be overheard by invisible ears. "The ghost! Suppose, all
the same, it were a ghost who puts the magic envelopes on the table ...
who talks in Box Five ... who killed Joseph Buquet ... who unhooked
the chandelier ... and who robs us! For, after all, after all, after
all, there is no one here except you and me, and, if the notes
disappear and neither you nor I have anything to do with it, well, we
shall have to believe in the ghost ... in the ghost."

At that moment, the clock on the mantlepiece gave its warning click and
the first stroke of twelve struck.

The two managers shuddered. The perspiration streamed from their
foreheads. The twelfth stroke sounded strangely in their ears.

When the clock stopped, they gave a sigh and rose from their chairs.

"I think we can go now," said Moncharmin.

"I think so," Richard a agreed.

"Before we go, do you mind if I look in your pocket?"

"But, of course, Moncharmin, YOU MUST! ... Well?" he asked, as
Moncharmin was feeling at the pocket.

"Well, I can feel the pin."

"Of course, as you said, we can't be robbed without noticing it."

But Moncharmin, whose hands were still fumbling, bellowed:

"I can feel the pin, but I can't feel the notes!"

"Come, no joking, Moncharmin! ... This isn't the time for it."

"Well, feel for yourself."

Richard tore off his coat. The two managers turned the pocket inside
out. THE POCKET WAS