At first sight, Richard and Moncharmin thought that the notes were
still there; but soon they perceived that they were not the same. The
twenty real notes were gone and had been replaced by twenty notes, of
the "Bank of St. Farce"! [1]

The managers' rage and fright were unmistakable. Moncharmin wanted to
send for the commissary of police, but Richard objected. He no doubt
had a plan, for he said:

"Don't let us make ourselves ridiculous! All Paris would laugh at us. O. G. has won the first game:  we will win the second." He was thinking of the next month's allowance. Nevertheless, they had been so absolutely tricked that they were bound
to suffer a certain dejection. And, upon my word, it was not difficult
to understand. We must not forget that the managers had an idea at the
back of their minds, all the time, that this strange incident might be
an unpleasant practical joke on the part of their predecessors and that
it would not do to divulge it prematurely. On the other hand,
Moncharmin was sometimes troubled with a suspicion of Richard himself,
who occasionally took fanciful whims into his head. And so they were
content to await events, while keeping an eye on Mother Giry. Richard
would not have her spoken to. "If she is a confederate," he said, "the notes are gone long ago. But,
in my opinion, she is merely an idiot." "She's not the only idiot in this business," said Moncharmin pensively. "Well, who could have thought it?" moaned Richard. "But don't be
afraid ... next time, I shall have taken my precautions." The next time fell on the same day that beheld the disappearance of
Christine Daae. In the morning, a note from the ghost reminded them
that the money was due. It read:

Do just as you did last time. It went very well. Put the twenty
thousand in the envelope and hand it to our excellent Mme. Giry. And the note was accompanied by the usual envelope. They had only to
insert the notes. This was done about half an hour before the curtain rose on the first
act of Faust. Richard showed the envelope to Moncharmin. Then he
counted the twenty thousand-franc notes in front of him and put the
notes into the envelope, but without closing it. "And now," he said, "let's have Mother Giry in." The old woman was sent for. She entered with a sweeping courtesy. She
still wore her black taffeta dress, the color of which was rapidly
turning to rust and lilac, to say nothing of the dingy bonnet. She
seemed in a good temper. She at once said:

"Good evening, gentlemen! It's for the envelope, I suppose?" "Yes, Mme. Giry," said Richard, most amiably. "For the envelope ...
and something else besides." "At your service, M. Richard, at your service. And what is the
something else, please?" "First of all, Mme. Giry, I have a little question to put to you." "By all means, M. Richard:  Mme. Giry is here to answer you." "Are you still on good terms with the ghost?" "Couldn't be better, sir; couldn't be better." "Ah, we are delighted ...  Look here, Mme. Giry," said Richard, in the
tone of making an important confidence. "We may just as well tell you,
among ourselves ... you're no fool!" "Why, sir," exclaimed the box-keeper, stopping the pleasant nodding of
the black feathers in her dingy bonnet, "I assure you no one has ever
doubted that!" "We are quite agreed and we shall soon understand one another. The
story of the ghost is all humbug, isn't it? ... Well, still between
ourselves, ... it has lasted long enough." Mme. Giry looked at the managers as though they were talking Chinese. She walked up to Richard's table and asked, rather anxiously:

"What do you mean? I don't understand." "Oh, you, understand quite well. In any case, you've got to
understand...  And, first of all, tell us his name." "Whose name?" "The name of the man whose accomplice you are, Mme. Giry!" "I am the ghost's accomplice? I? ... His accomplice in what, pray?" "You do all he wants." "Oh! He's not very troublesome, you know." "And does he still tip you?" "I mustn't complain." "How much does he give you for bringing him that envelope?" "Ten francs." "You poor thing! That's not much, is it? "Why?" "I'll tell you that presently, Mme. Giry. Just now we should like to
know for what extraordinary reason you have given yourself body and
soul, to this ghost ... Mme. Giry's friendship and devotion are not to
be bought for five francs or ten francs." "That's true enough ...  And I can tell you the reason, sir. There's
no disgrace about it...  on the contrary." "We're quite sure of that, Mme. Giry!" "Well, it's like this ... only the ghost doesn't like me to talk about
his business." "Indeed?" sneered Richard. "But this is a matter that concerns myself alone ...  Well, it was in
Box Five one evening, I found a letter addressed to myself, a sort of
note written in red ink. I needn't read the letter to you sir; I know
it by heart, and I shall never forget it if I live to be a hundred!" And Mme. Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with touching
eloquence:

MADAM:

1825. Mlle. Menetrier, leader of the ballet, became Marquise de Cussy. 1832. Mlle. Marie Taglioni, a dancer, became Comtesse Gilbert des
Voisins. 1846. La Sota, a dancer, married a brother of the King of Spain. 1847. Lola Montes, a dancer, became the morganatic wife of King Louis
of Bavaria and was created Countess of Landsfeld. 1848. Mlle. Maria, a dancer, became Baronne d'Herneville. 1870. Theresa Hessier, a dancer, married Dom Fernando, brother to the
King of Portugal. Richard and Moncharmin listened to the old woman, who, as she proceeded
with the enumeration of these glorious nuptials, swelled out, took
courage and, at last, in a voice bursting with pride, flung out the
last sentence of the prophetic letter:

1885. Meg Giry, Empress! Exhausted by this supreme effort, the box-keeper fell into a chair,
saying:

"Gentlemen, the letter was signed, 'Opera Ghost.' I had heard much of
the ghost, but only half believed in him. From the day when he
declared that my little Meg, the flesh of my flesh, the fruit of my
womb, would be empress, I believed in him altogether." And really it was not necessary to make a long study of Mme. Giry's
excited features to understand what could be got out of that fine
intellect with the two words "ghost" and "empress." But who pulled the strings of that extraordinary puppet? That was the
question. "You have never seen him; he speaks to you and you believe all he
says?" asked Moncharmin. "Yes. To begin with, I owe it to him that my little Meg was promoted
to be the leader of a row. I said to the ghost, 'If she is to be
empress in 1885, there is no time to lose; she must become a leader at
once.' He said, 'Look upon it as done.' And he had only a word to say
to M. Poligny and the thing was done." "So you see that M. Poligny saw him!" "No, not any more than I did; but he heard him. The ghost said a word
in his ear, you know, on the evening when he left Box Five, looking so
dreadfully pale." Moncharmin heaved a sigh. "What a business!"