"How many stablemen have you, M. Lachenel?"
"Six stablemen! That's at least two too many."
"These are 'places,'" Mercier interposed, "created and forced upon us
by the under-secretary for fine arts. They are filled by protegees of
the government and, if I may venture to ..."
"I don't care a hang for the government!" roared Richard. "We don't
need more than four stablemen for twelve horses."
"Eleven," said the head riding-master, correcting him.
"Twelve," repeated Richard.
"Eleven," repeated Lachenel.
"Oh, the acting-manager told me that you had twelve horses!"
"I did have twelve, but I have only eleven since Cesar was stolen."
And M. Lachenel gave himself a great smack on the boot with his whip.
"Has Cesar been stolen?" cried the acting-manager. "Cesar, the white
horse in the Profeta?"
"There are not two Cesars," said the stud-groom dryly. "I was ten
years at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well,
there are not two Cesars. And he's been stolen."
"How?"
"I don't know. Nobody knows. That's why I have come to ask you to
sack the whole stable."
"What do your stablemen say?"
"All sorts of nonsense. Some of them accuse the supers. Others
pretend that it's the acting-manager's doorkeeper ..."
"My doorkeeper? I'll answer for him as I would for myself!" protested
Mercier.
"But, after all, M. Lachenel," cried Richard, "you must have some idea."
"Yes, I have," M. Lachenel declared. "I have an idea and I'll tell you
what it is. There's no doubt about it in my mind." He walked up to the
two managers and whispered. "It's the ghost who did the trick!"
Richard gave a jump.
"What, you too! You too!"
"How do you mean, I too? Isn't it natural, after what I saw?"
"What did you see?"
"I saw, as clearly as I now see you, a black shadow riding a white
horse that was as like Cesar as two peas!"
"And did you run after them?"
"I did and I shouted, but they were too fast for me and disappeared in
the darkness of the underground gallery."
M. Richard rose. "That will do, M. Lachenel. You can go ... We will
lodge a complaint against THE GHOST."
"And sack my stable?"
"Oh, of course! Good morning."
M. Lachenel bowed and withdrew. Richard foamed at the mouth.
"Settle that idiot's account at once, please."
"He is a friend of the government representative's!" Mercier ventured
to say.
"And he takes his vermouth at Tortoni's with Lagrene, Scholl and
Pertuiset, the lion-hunter," added Moncharmin. "We shall have the
whole press against us! He'll tell the story of the ghost; and
everybody will be laughing at our expense! We may as well be dead as
ridiculous!"
"All right, say no more about it."