Meanwhile, Riche had taken in the whole situation.
"I say, my boy," he said to Marcel, "I've found out the culprit at last."
"Who? Where?" cried Marcel in an excited voice.
"Why, that young lady who was sitting on the other side of Céleste."
Marcel turned round and looked at the position indicated.
"Why, you surely don't mean Mademoiselle Beaupaire?"
"Yes, of course I do. I saw her blushing furiously a few minutes ago, and I noticed her turn her face away the moment you happened to look in her direction. Oh, there can be no doubt about it."
"By Jove, I understand it all now, it's as clear as daylight," said Marcel, slapping Riche's thigh. "What a fool I was not to see it before. The explanation is quite simple; she mistook my bedroom for her father's, and as it was dark she put the plaster on the wrong man."
"Ha! ha! you've hit it, my boy, it's immensely funny. Ha! ha!" and Riche and Marcel both held their sides and shook with laughter.