in the ghost." At that moment, the clock on the mantlepiece gave its warning click and the first stroke of twelve struck.
The two managers shuddered.

The perspiration streamed from their foreheads.

The twelfth stroke sounded strangely in their ears.
When the clock stopped, they gave a sigh and rose from their chairs.
"I think we can go now," said Moncharmin.
"I think so," Richard a agreed.
"Before we go, do you mind if I look in your pocket ?" "But, of course, Moncharmin, YOU MUST! ...

Well ?" he asked, as Moncharmin was feeling at the pocket.
"Well, I can feel the pin." "Of course, as you said, we can't be robbed without noticing it." But Moncharmin, whose hands were still fumbling, bellowed: "I can feel the pin, but I can't feel the notes!" "Come, no joking, Moncharmin! ...

This isn't the time for it." "Well, feel for yourself." Richard tore off his coat.