Призрак Оперы

           HisthreateningforefingerseemedalreadytobepointingoutthekeeperofBoxFivetotheabsentmagistrates.

           "Iamgoingtohaveyouarrested,Mme.Giry,asathief!"

           "Saythatagain!"

           AndMme.GirycaughtMr.ManagerRichardamightyboxontheear,beforeMr.ManagerMoncharminhadtimetointervene.Butitwasnotthewitheredhandoftheangryoldbeldamethatfellonthemanagerialear,buttheenvelopeitself,thecauseofallthetrouble,themagicenvelopethatopenedwiththeblow,scatteringthebank-notes,whichescapedinafantasticwhirlofgiantbutterflies.

           Thetwomanagersgaveashout,andthesamethoughtmadethembothgoontheirknees,feverishly,pickingupandhurriedlyexaminingthepreciousscrapsofpaper.

           "Aretheystillgenuine,Moncharmin?"

           "Aretheystillgenuine,Richard?"

           "Yes,theyarestillgenuine!"

           Abovetheirheads,Mme.Giry’sthreeteethwereclashinginanoisycontest,fullofhideousinterjections.ButallthatcouldbeclearlydistinguishedwasthisLEIT-MOTIF:

           "I,athief!...I,athief,I?"

           Shechokedwithrage.Sheshouted:

           "Ineverheardofsuchathing!"

           And,suddenly,shedarteduptoRichardagain.

           "Inanycase,"sheyelped,"you,M.Richard,oughttoknowbetterthanIwherethetwentythousandfrancswentto!"

           "I?"askedRichard,astounded."AndhowshouldIknow?"

           Moncharmin,lookingsevereanddissatisfied,atonceinsistedthatthegoodladyshouldexplainherself.

           "Whatdoesthismean,Mme.Giry?"heasked."AndwhydoyousaythatM.