out laughing, as did Moncharmin and Remy, the
secretary. Only the inspector, warned by experience, was careful not
to laugh, while Mme. Giry ventured to adopt an attitude that was
positively threatening.

"Instead of laughing," she cried indignantly, "you'd do better to do as
M. Poligny did, who found out for himself."

"Found out about what?" asked Moncharmin, who had never been so much
amused in his life.

"About the ghost, of course! ... Look here ..."

She suddenly calmed herself, feeling that this was a solemn moment in
her life:

"LOOK HERE," she repeated. "They were playing La Juive. M. Poligny
thought he would watch the performance from the ghost's box... Well,
when Leopold cries, 'Let us fly!'--you know--and Eleazer stops them and
says, 'Whither go ye?' ... well, M. Poligny--I was watching him from
the back of the next box, which was empty--M. Poligny got up and walked
out quite stiffly, like a statue, and before I had time to ask him,
'Whither go ye?' like Eleazer, he was down the staircase, but without
breaking his leg.

"Still, that doesn't let us know how the Opera ghost came to ask you
for a footstool," insisted M. Moncharmin.

"Well, from that evening, no one tried to take the ghost's private box
from him. The manager gave orders that he was to have it at each
performance. And, whenever he came, he asked me for a footstool."

"Tut, tut! A ghost asking for a footstool! Then this ghost of yours
is a woman?"

"No, the ghost is a man."

"How do you know?"

"He has a man's voice, oh, such a lovely man's voice! This is what
happens: When he comes to the opera, it's usually in the middle of the
first act. He gives three little taps on the door of Box Five. The
first time I heard those three taps, when I knew there was no one in
the box, you can think how puzzled I was! I opened the door, listened,
looked; nobody! And then I heard a voice say, 'Mme. Jules' my poor
husband's name was Jules--'a footstool, please.' Saving your presence,
gentlemen, it made me feel all-overish like. But the voice went on,
'Don't be frightened, Mme. Jules, I'm the Opera ghost!' And the voice
was so soft and kind that I hardly felt frightened. THE VOICE WAS
SITTING IN THE CORNER CHAIR, ON THE RIGHT, IN THE FRONT ROW."

"Was there any one in the box on the right of Box Five?" asked
Moncharmin.

"No; Box Seven, and Box Three, the one on the left, were both empty.
The curtain had only just gone up."

"A