‘Good evening, sir and sir, I s’pose it’s about the envelope?’
‘That’s right, Mme Giry,’ said Richard in his friendliest voice, ‘it’s about the envelope… and about another matter too.’
‘Always glad to oblige, M. Richard sir, always ready… And what is this other matter, if I may be so bold?’
‘First, Mme Giry, I have something to ask you, nothing important.’
‘Ask away, sir. Mme Giry is ready to answer.’
‘Are you still on good terms with the Phantom?’
‘Couldn’t be better, sir, never better.’
‘Good, we’re delighted, as you can see… So tell me, Mme Giry,’ said Richard adopting a highly confidential manner. ‘Just between ourselves… we can tell you… you’re no fool…’
‘Oh sir!’ she cried as the two black feathers in her dingy hat suddenly ceased their friendly nodding, ‘I’ll have you know that nobody’s ever had any doubts on that score!’
‘Quite so. I see we’re going to get along famously. Now, this business of the Phantom is somebody’s idea of a joke, isn’t it?… And still between ourselves… it’s gone on too long.’
Mme Giry stared at the Directors as if they’d been talking Chinese. She went up to Richard’s desk and, suddenly nervous, said:
‘What are you on about?… I don’t get you!’
‘Oh, I think you follow us perfectly… In any case, you must understand… First, you’re going to tell us his name.’
‘Who you talking about?’
‘The man, Mme Giry, whose accomplice you are!’
‘Me? The ’complice of the Phantom?… The’complice in what?’
‘You do exactly what he tells you.’
‘Oh he don’t ask very often.’
‘But he always slips you a little something?’
‘I got no complaints.’
‘How much does he give you for taking him the envelope?’
‘Ten francs.’
‘Really? That’s not much!’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’ll tell you why later, Mme Giry. But for the moment we’d like to know exactly why, for what extraordinary reason… you’ve given yourself body and soul to this Phantom rather than to another, er, being… Don’t tell me anyone can have the loyalty and friendship of Mme Giry just by slipping her the odd five or ten francs?’
‘That’s true!… So I’ll tell you the reason, sir! And I’m not ashamed of it… the very opposite.’
‘We don’t doubt it for a moment, Mme Giry.’
‘But, to be honest… the Phantom don’t like me talking about his business.’
‘Oh really!’ snorted Richard.
‘Still I reckon this is no one’s business but me own!’ she went on. ‘It all started in Box 5… One night I found a letter for me… or a note more like, written in red ink… I don’t have to read it out to you, sir, I know it by heart… and I’ll never forget it if I live to be a hundred!’
And Mme Giry recited the letter straight off with touching eloquence.
‘Madame,
1825: Mlle Ménétrier, leader of the ballet, becomes Marquise de Cussy.
1832: Mlle Marie Taglioni, dancer, becomes Countess Gilbert des Voisins.
1846: La Sota, dancer, marries a brother of the King of Spain.
1847: Lola Montez, dancer, makes a morganatic marriage with Louis, King of Bavaria, and becomes Countess de Landsfeld.
1848: Mlle Maria, dancer, becomes Baroness d’Hermeville.
1870: Thérèse Hessler, dancer, marries Don Fernando, brother of the King of Portugal.’
Richard and Moncharmin listened to the old woman who, the further she went in her curious litany of glorious nuptials, grew more animated, drew herself up to her full height, became bolder and, finally, no less inspired than the Sibyl of old on her stool,* exclaimed in a voice bursting with pride the last entry of the prophetic note:
‘1885: Meg Giry, empress!’*
Worn out by this supreme effort, she collapsed on to a chair saying:
‘And the note, M. Richard sir, was signed: “The Phantom of the Opera!” I’d heard people talking about a ghost but I never only half believed it. The day he said that my little Meg, the child of my bosom and fruit of my womb, would be a Hempress, well, I believed it from top to bottom!’
There was no need to study the exalted look on Mme Giry’s face for more than a moment to realize how easy it had been to obtain the full and eager cooperation of this superior intellect just by using the words ‘Phantom’ and ‘Empress’.
But who was pulling the strings of this ridiculous puppet?… Who?…
‘You’ve never seen him, he speaks to you and you believe everything he tells you?’ asked Moncharmin.
‘Oh yes! At the start it was on account of him that my little Meg got made up to be a leader of a row. I said to the Phantom, I told him: “Look, if she’s going to be a Hempress in 1885, you’d best get a move on, she’s got to be a row-leader as soon as ever!” And he says: “Righty ho!” So he had a quick word with M. Poligny and it was all fixed…’
‘You’re sure M. Poligny saw the Phantom?…’
‘He never saw him no more than I ever have. But he heard him! The Phantom spoke to him—you know, that night he come out of Box 5 looking green at the gills.’
Moncharmin sighed:
‘What a business!’ he groaned.
‘Now,’ said Mme Giry, ‘I always thought the Phantom and M. Poligny had secrets. Every time the Phantom asked M. Poligny for something, M. Poligny said yes… M. Poligny never said no to the Phantom.’
‘Hear that, Richard? Poligny never said no to the Phantom!’
‘Yes, yes, I heard!’ said Richard. ‘So M. Poligny is a friend of the Phantom! And since Mme Giry is a friend of M. Poligny… there we have the answer!’ he barked in triumph. ‘But I’m not bothered about M. Poligny… the only person whose fate really interests me, and I make no bones about it, is Mme Giry!… Mme Giry, have you any idea what’s in this envelope?’
‘I should think not!’ she said.
‘Have a look!’
Mme Giry shot a worried look into the envelope. Then her face lit up.
‘Thousand-franc notes!’ she cried.
‘That’s right, Mme Giry!… Thousand-franc banknotes!… But you knew that already!’
‘Me, M. Richard?… I swear I never…’
‘Don’t swear, Mme Giry!… And now I shall tell you the other matter I mentioned when I asked you here… I’m going to have you arrested.’
The two black feathers on her shabby hat, which usually looked like question marks, immediately changed into exclamation marks, while the hat itself wobbled wildly, threatening the frayed chignon beneath. Little Meg’s mother also registered surprise, indignation, protest and trepidation by means of an alarming pirouette of injured innocence, something between a hop and a glide, which brought her in one movement face to face with M. Richard who instinctively recoiled in his chair.
‘Have me arrested!’
The mouth from which these words issued seemed as if they were also about to spit its three remaining teeth at him. M. Richard behaved heroically. He stopped retreating and, with one forefinger, ominously pointed accusingly at the attendant of Box 5 for the benefit of her absent judges.
‘I intend to have you arrested, Mme Giry, for theft!’
‘Say that again!!’
And before M. Moncharmin could intervene, Mme Giry caught the Director a hefty swipe. There! The charge was refuted with a vengeance! But what had caught the Director’s cheek was not the leathery hand of the furious old termagant but the cause of all the trouble, the envelope, the magic envelope. Under the force of the impact it split and released the banknotes which flew up into the air, twirling and whirling like giant butterflies.
Both Directors let out a cry of anguish and the same impulse brought them to their knees, feverishly gathering up and hastily checking all the precious pieces of paper.
‘Are they still genuine?’ asked Richard.
‘Yes, they’re still genuine!!!’
Above them, Mme Giry’s three teeth clashed in a strident thunder of outraged discontent. Its general tenor was, however, perfectly clear:
‘Me, a thief! A thief, me?’
She struggled for breath.
‘Defiled!’ she cried, ‘I feel defiled!’
And then she brought her nose to within inches of Richard’s.
‘And another thing, M. Richard, you should know better than me what happened to them twenty thousand francs!’
‘Me?’ said Richard, looking stunned. ‘And how should I know?’
But Moncharmin, suddenly grave and looking worried, wanted her to explain.
‘What do you mean, Mme Giry?’ he asked. ‘Why do you say that M. Richard knows better than you do about what happened to the twenty thousand francs?’
Meanwhile Richard, feeling his face turn red under Moncharmin’s close scrutiny, seized Mme Giry’s wrist and yanked on it very hard. His was now the voice of thunder… It bellowed… It deafened…
‘Why do I know better than you about what happened to the twenty thousand francs? Tell me!’
‘Because they ended up in your pocket!…’ gulped the old woman, staring at him as if he was the Devil in person.
It was now M. Richard’s turn to be blasted by this bolt from the blue and then withered by M. Moncharmin’s increasingly suspicious eye. And then the strength he needed at this testing moment to reject such a despicable accusation suddenly drained away.
He reacted instinctively the way innocent persons with a clear conscience react when a finger is pointed at them. They blanch or blush, stand up or bow down, protest or say nothing when they should say something, or say something when it would be better to say nothing, or stay unruffled when they should mop their brow, or perspire when the thing to do is to stay cool, such persons, I was saying, look guilty.*
Moncharmin swiftly forestalled the avenging impulse which was urging the innocent Richard to launch himself physically at Mme Giry by taking over the questioning, using his best, gently coaxing manner.
‘Why do you suspect my colleague, M. Richard, of putting the twenty thousand francs into his own pocket?’
‘I never said no such thing!’ said Mme Giry, ‘seeing as how it was me in person that put the money in M. Richard’s pocket!’
Then she muttered: ‘Well it’s out now! Can’t be helped… May the Phantom forgive me!’
And when Richard started bellowing again, Moncharmin told him to be quiet in no uncertain terms:
‘Please! Allow me! You must let the woman explain! If you don’t mind, I’ll ask the questions!’
And he added:
‘It’s very odd of you to act like this!… Here we are, nearing the point when this whole mystery is about to be cleared up and you lose your temper. You’re quite wrong! For my part, I think the whole thing is rather amusing!’
Poor, martyred Mme Giry looked up, her eyes shining with her faith in her own innocence.
‘You said there was twenty thousand francs in the envelope I put in M. Richard’s pocket. But like I said, I didn’t know nothing about that… nor M. Richard neither!’
‘Aha!’ said Richard, with a triumphant flourish which Moncharmin did not care for. ‘I didn’t know anything about it either! You put twenty thousand francs in my pocket, unbeknownst to me! I’m very glad to hear it, Mme Giry.’
‘Oh yes!’ said the formidable lady, ‘it’s all true!… Neither of us was in the know!… But you, sir, you must have noticed the money there sooner or later?’
Richard would have skinned Mme Giry alive if Moncharmin hadn’t been there. But Moncharmin swiftly went to her defence by speeding up the questioning:
‘What kind of envelope did you put in M. Richard’s pocket? It obviously wasn’t the one we gave you, the one we saw you take to Box 5, the one that contained the twenty thousand francs.’
‘Beg pardon! The one I put in M. Richard’s pocket was the one he gave me,’ explained Mme Giry. ‘The one I took to the Phantom’s box was another one altogether that looked exactly the same. The Phantom gave it me beforehand. I had it ready up my sleeve!’
And so saying Mme Giry produced from her sleeve an addressed envelope identical to the one now containing the 20,000 francs. The Directors took it, inspected it, and noted that it was closed with their own duly affixed seal. They opened it… Inside were twenty Bank of Saint Farce notes which were also identical with those which had so amazed them the previous month.
‘But it’s so simple!’ said Richard.
‘So simple!’ repeated Moncharmin, even more solemnly than usual.
‘The best tricks are always the simplest,’ said Richard. ‘All it takes is an accomplice…’
‘… who could be male or female,’ Moncharmin added casually, but he continued to stare fixedly at Mme Giry as if he was trying to hypnotize her:
‘You’re quite sure it was the Phantom who gave you this envelope and told you to switch it for the one we handed to you to deliver? Was it the Phantom who told you to slip it into M. Richard’s pocket?’
‘It was him all right!’
‘Then would you mind giving us a small demonstration of your pickpocketing talents?… Here’s the envelope. Carry on as if we have no idea what’s going on.’
‘As you like, M. Moncharmin, sir.’
Mme Giry picked up the envelope containing the twenty banknotes, headed for the door and was about to leave their office when both Directors descended on her.
‘Not so fast! We’ve been had once and once is enough. We have no intention of being had again!’
‘Beg pardon, gentlemen,’ said the old woman apologetically, ‘but you said you wanted me to carry on as if you weren’t in the know… Well, if you don’t know what’s going on, I oughter walk off now with your envelope!’
‘But how are you going to slip it into my pocket?’ said Richard keeping up the pressure, while Moncharmin kept his left eye on him and the right on Mme Giry, an ocularly challenging tactic, but he was determined to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of the truth.
‘I’m s’posed to slip it in your pocket just when you’re least expecting it, sir. I always come in some time during the evening, you know, for a bit of a look round backstage. I often take my daughter over to the foyer of the corps de ballet, like I’m entitled to being her mother. I carry her dancing pumps for when she goes on stage for her part in the performance, and sometimes I take her little sprinkler too… Anyway, I come and go as I please… Gentlemen with season tickets also come and go, sir… there’s always ever so many people milling around… So I step behind you and slip the envelope into the pocket of your coat-tails and there you are!… It’s not magic!’
‘Not magic, eh?’ said Richard with a snort and rolling his eyes like Jove about to hurl a thunderbolt, ‘of course it wasn’t magic! But you’re lying, you old witch, and I can prove it!’
The insult stung the worthy lady much less than the doubt cast on her truthfulness. She drew herself up again, bristled, and bared those three front teeth.
‘What proof’s that, then?’
‘Proof that I spent all that evening in the auditorium, watching Box 5 and the bogus envelope that you put there. I never went down to the foyer for one second…’
‘But, sir, that wasn’t the night I slipped you the envelope!… It was the next night!… the night the Under-Secketary of State for Art and Culture…’
Here M. Richard suddenly stopped Mme Giry in mid-flow.
‘It’s true,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I remember now… The Under Secretary went backstage. He asked for me. I went down and waited by the staircase in the foyer for a moment or two… He and his PPS were there in the body of the hall… I turned round suddenly… It was you passing just behind me, Mme Giry, I thought you’d brushed against me… I can see you now!’
And once again, Mme Giry matched word with deed. She went behind M. Richard and—so quickly that Moncharmin, who had been watching closely, was impressed by her deftness—slipped the envelope into the pocket of one of the tails of his partner’s fish and soup.
‘Couldn’t be handier!’ snorted Richard who had turned pale. ‘This Phantom is a most ingenious fellow. The problem for him was: how to eliminate any dangerous connection between whoever handed over the twenty thousand and the person who received it! And what he came up with was to remove the cash from my pocket without my noticing because I didn’t even know it was there in the first place!… By God, it’s clever!’
‘Clever, certainly,’ said Moncharmin, no less admiringly… ‘Only you’re forgetting one thing, Richard: I supplied ten of the twenty thousand and no one put anything in my pocket!’
CHAPTER 18
More about the Strange Request for a Safety Pin
THOSE last words uttered by Moncharmin expressed the misgivings he felt about his partner only too clearly for there not to be a stormy scene between them. The upshot was that Richard agreed to accept whatever Moncharmin would decide in their search for the villain who was leading them by the nose.
And so we return to the interval at the end of the garden scene of Faust when M. Rémy, the secretary, a man who never missed a thing, observed the peculiar behaviour of both Directors. We shall now have no difficulty explaining their unfathomably baroque conduct which would otherwise be impossible to reconcile with the dignity of their office.
Richard and Moncharmin behaved in a manner dictated by what Mme Giry had revealed to them. 1st: Richard would reproduce exactly every one of his movements of the evening the first 20,000 francs had disappeared; 2nd: Moncharmin would not take his eyes off Richard’s back pocket into which Mme Giry had slipped the second 20,000.
M. Richard returned to the exact spot where he’d been standing when he had greeted the Under-Secretary. M. Moncharmin took up a position a few steps to his rear.
The Phantom of the Opera (Oxford World's Classics) Page 23