“It’s incredible!” protested Richard. “I am sure of my servants … and if one of them had done it, he would have disappeared since.”
Moncharmin shrugged his shoulders, as though to say that he did not wish to enter into details, and Richard began to think that Moncharmin was treating him in a very insupportable fashion.
“Moncharmin, I’ve had enough of this!”
“Richard, I’ve had too much of it!”
“Do you dare to suspect me?”
“Yes, of a silly joke.”
“One doesn’t joke with twenty-thousand francs.”
“That’s what I think,” declared Moncharmin, unfolding a newspaper and ostentatiously studying its contents.
“What are you doing?” asked Richard. “Are you going to read the paper next?”
“Yes, Richard, until I take you home.”
“Like last time?”
“Yes, like last time.”
Richard snatched the paper from Moncharmin’s hands. Moncharmin stood up, more irritated than ever, and found himself faced by an exasperated Richard, who, crossing his arms on his chest, said:
“Look here, I’m thinking of this, I’m thinking of what I might think if, like last time, after my spending the evening alone with you, you brought me home and if, at the moment of parting, I perceived that twenty-thousand francs had disappeared from my coat-pocket … like last time.”