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 Mame 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.”
Mame Giry, like the martyr that she was, raised her head, her face beaming with faith in her own innocence.
“You tell me there were twenty-thousand francs in the envelope which I put into M. Richard’s pocket; but I tell you again that I knew nothing about it. … Nor M. Richard either, for that matter!”
“Aha!” said Richard, suddenly assuming a swaggering air which Moncharmin did not like. “I knew nothing either! You put twenty-thousand francs in my pocket and I knew nothing either! I am very glad to hear it, Mme. Giry!”
“Yes,” the terrible dame agreed, “yes, it’s true. We neither of us knew anything. But you, you must have ended by finding out!”