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 empty. And the curious thing was that the pin remained, stuck in the same place.

Richard and Moncharmin turned pale. There was no longer any doubt about the witchcraft.

“The ghost!” muttered Moncharmin.

But Richard suddenly sprang upon his partner.