The managers of the opera house had been agitated for some time. Awhile back they'd found a note from the ghost in their office, saying their first payment of twenty thousand francs was due. The ghost instructed them to put the money into the envelope he'd enclosed. They were told to seal it with wax before handing it to the usher Madame Giry to place in box five.
Moncharmin and Richard did as they were told. Then they spent the evening watching the ghost's box to see who would pick up the envelope. When no one did, they went to the box and opened the envelope. Inside they found twenty thousand francs—but in play money! The seal on the envelope wasn't broken. So how had the money been replaced?
Now, on the night when Christine was singing the role of Marguerite, it was time for another payment. The opera ghost had written, saying they should follow the same procedure.
"I've sent for Madame Giry because she must know what's really going on with these payments," Richard said to Moncharmin.
The usher soon arrived at their office. "I assume you have another envelope for the ghost that you'd like me to deliver," she said.
"Yes, and we want to talk to you about it." Richard picked up the envelope full of francs.
"Anything at all, gentlemen," Madame Giry said.
"We're not fools." Richard's expression hardened, and his voice grew harsh. "We know the opera ghost doesn't exist. You must be the accomplice of some con man. Tell us his name at once!"
"I don't understand . . . an accomplice . . . what?" Madame Giry looked genuinely confused.
"How much does this so-called ghost give you when you leave the envelope in his box?" Richard said.
"Ten francs."
"That's not much," Moncharmin said.
"That's not all." Madame Giry hesitated before she spoke. "The ghost doesn't like me to talk about him, but awhile back he left me a letter in box five. In red ink he'd written a list of famous dancers and the years they'd married royalty. Next to a future year—1885—was my daughter Meg's name, followed by one word: empress!"
Exhausted by her confession, Madame Giry flopped into a chair. "Before that letter I'd only half-believed in the opera ghost. After he declared that my Meg would one day marry the emperor, I totally believed in him."
"You've never seen the ghost, yet you believe everything he says, no matter how improbable?" Moncharmin asked.
"Yes! I told the ghost, if Meg's going to become empress, she'll need to attract the attention of the emperor. The phantom said something to the previous managers, and Meg immediately started getting better roles."
Richard gave Moncharmin a skeptical look. "And now, madame, I'll tell you another reason I sent for you. I'm going to have you arrested for the theft of twenty thousand francs!"
Madame Giry popped up from her chair and slapped Richard across the face. Shocked, he dropped the envelope, which opened, scattering the notes.
"Look at all that money!" Madame Giry exclaimed. The managers dropped to the floor, quickly gathering up the notes. "I had no idea what was in that envelope!"
Richard clutched the envelope tightly as he stood up. "What happened to the money we gave you last time?"
"If anyone should know, it's you, Monsieur Richard!" Madame Giry said. "Because I put the envelope in the pocket of your coattail!"
"What?" Richard made a move toward Madame Giry.
"Here, let me take over," Moncharmin said, stepping between his partner and the usher. "Now please explain what you did with the envelope containing the real money."
"I told you—I put it in Monsieur Richard's pocket. The one I left in box five was an identical envelope, which the ghost gave me beforehand and I slipped up my sleeve."
At this point, Madame Giry took from her sleeve an envelope that matched the one Richard was holding. The managers turned the envelope over and saw it was sealed with wax stamped with their own seal. Upon opening it, they found twenty thousand francs in play money.
"Amazing!" Moncharmin said. "How did he get our seal?"
"Everyone's a magician these days!" Richard grumbled.
"Why do you think the ghost went to all this trouble?" Moncharmin said.
"He doesn't want anyone to see him picking up the envelope," Madame Giry said. "So after you gave me the one with the real money, I kept it up my sleeve. When I went to the ballet foyer to visit Meg, it was crowded as always, and easy for me to slip behind Monsieur Richard. That's when I put the envelope into the tail pocket of his coat."
Richard rolled his eyes with disbelief. "You're lying! I spent that whole evening watching box five and the envelope you put there. I didn't go near the ballet foyer!"
Madame Giry gave a satisfied smile. "I didn't give you the envelope that night. I waited until the next night when you were busy greeting the mayor."
"Wait a minute!" Richard said. "I do remember you bumping against me. Was that when it happened?"
Madame Giry nodded. "You didn't even know the real money was in your pocket. All the ghost had to do was come up behind you and take it."
"Well, that's not going to happen tonight!" Richard called for the managers' assistant. "Mercier, come here! Lock Madame Giry in your office so she can't communicate with her ghost friend."
Mercier escorted the protesting usher away while the managers discussed what to do.
"We need to get to the bottom of this mystery," Moncharmin said. "For now, the safest thing to do is lock ourselves in the office until after the performance."
Richard nodded.
"When Mercier returns," Moncharmin went on, "let's ask him for a safety pin to fasten the envelope—and the money—to your pocket. If the ghost tries to remove the envelope, you'll feel his hand in your pocket!"
The managers were in their office all evening, so they were unaware of Christine's dramatic disappearance. Before they left for the night, Richard felt his pocket to be sure the money was still there.
"I can feel the safety pin, but the envelope's gone!" Richard tore off his coat and turned his pocket inside out. It was empty!
Moncharmin gasped. "The ghost must have been here!"
"We would have seen him!" Richard said.
At that moment Mercier knocked on the office door, shouting something about Christine. But the managers were too distraught about their twenty thousand francs to comprehend what he was saying.