It was quite evident from the manager’s attitude, that he either did not know or could not remember having met Mame Giry, nor even little Giry, nor even “little Meg!” But Mame Giry’s pride was so great that the celebrated box-keeper imagined that everybody knew her.
“Never heard of her!” the manager declared. “But that’s no reason, Mame Giry, why I shouldn’t ask you what happened last night to make you and the inspector call in a municipal guard …”
“I was just wanting to see you, sir, and talk to you about it, so that you mightn’t have the same unpleasantness as M. Debienne and M. Poligny. They wouldn’t listen to me either, at first.”
“I’m not asking you about all that. I’m asking what happened last night.”
Mame Giry turned purple with indignation. Never had she been spoken to like that. She rose as though to go, gathering up the folds of her skirt and waving the feathers of her dingy bonnet with dignity, but, changing her mind, she sat down again and said, in a haughty voice:
“I’ll tell you what happened. The ghost was annoyed again!”
Thereupon, as M. Richard was on the point of bursting out, M. Moncharmin interfered and conducted the interrogatory, whence it appeared that Mame Giry thought it quite natural that a voice should be heard to say that a box was taken, when there was nobody in the box.
She was unable to explain this phenomenon, which was not new to her, except by the intervention of the ghost. Nobody could see the ghost in his box, but everybody could hear him.
She had often heard him; and they could believe her, for she always spoke the truth. They could ask M. Debienne and M. Poligny, and anybody who knew her; and also M. Isidore Saack, who had had a leg broken by the ghost!