It must
have been the ordinary road taken by Erik to reach Christine's
dressing-room and impose upon her innocence. And Raoul, remembering
the Persian's remark, thought that it had been mysteriously constructed
by the ghost himself. Later, he learned that Erik had found, all
prepared for him, a secret passage, long known to himself alone and
contrived at the time of the Paris Commune to allow the jailers to
convey their prisoners straight to the dungeons that had been
constructed for them in the cellars; for the Federates had occupied the
opera-house immediately after the eighteenth of March and had made a
starting-place right at the top for their Mongolfier balloons, which
carried their incendiary proclamations to the departments, and a state
prison right at the bottom. The Persian went on his knees and put his lantern on the ground. He
seemed to be working at the floor; and suddenly he turned off his
light. Then Raoul heard a faint click and saw a very pale luminous
square in the floor of the passage. It was as though a window had
opened on the Opera cellars, which were still lit. Raoul no longer saw
the Persian, but he suddenly felt him by his side and heard him whisper:

"Follow me and do all that I do." Raoul turned to the luminous aperture. Then he saw the Persian, who
was still on his knees, hang by his hands from the rim of the opening,
with his pistol between his teeth, and slide into the cellar below. Curiously enough, the viscount had absolute confidence in the Persian,
though he knew nothing about him. His emotion when speaking of the
"monster" struck him as sincere; and, if the Persian had cherished any
sinister designs against him, he would not have armed him with his own
hands. Besides, Raoul must reach Christine at all costs. He therefore
went on his knees also and hung from the trap with both hands. "Let go!" said a voice. And he dropped into the arms of the Persian, who told him to lie down
flat, closed the trap-door above him and crouched down beside him. Raoul tried to ask a question, but the Persian's hand was on his mouth
and he heard a voice which he recognized as that of the commissary of
police. Raoul and the Persian were completely hidden behind a wooden partition. Near them, a small staircase led to a little room in which the
commissary appeared to be walking up and down, asking questions. The
faint light was just enough to enable Raoul to distinguish the shape of
things around him. And he could not restrain a dull cry: there were
three corpses there. The first lay on the narrow landing of the little staircase; the two
others had rolled to the bottom of the staircase. Raoul could have
touched one of the two poor wretches by passing his fingers through the
partition. "Silence!" whispered the Persian. He too had seen the bodies and he gave one word in explanation:

"HE!" The commissary's voice was now heard more distinctly. He was asking
for information about the system of lighting, which the stage-manager
supplied. The commissary therefore must be in the "organ" or its
immediate neighborhood. Contrary to what one might think, especially in connection with an
opera-house, the "organ" is not a musical instrument. At that time,
electricity was employed only for a very few scenic effects and for the
bells. The immense building and the stage itself were still lit by
gas; hydrogen was used to regulate and modify the lighting of a scene;
and this was done by means of a special apparatus which, because of the
multiplicity of its pipes, was known as the "organ." A box beside the
prompter's box was reserved for the chief gas-man, who from there gave
his orders to his assistants and saw that they were executed. Mauclair
stayed in this box during all the performances. But now Mauclair was not in his box and his assistants not in their
places. "Mauclair! Mauclair!" The stage-manager's voice echoed through the cellars. But Mauclair did
not reply. I have said that a door opened on a little staircase that led to the
second cellar. The commissary pushed it, but it resisted. "I say," he said to the stage-manager, "I can't open this door: is it
always so difficult?" The stage-manager forced it open with his shoulder. He saw that, at
the same time, he was pushing a human body and he could not keep back
an exclamation, for he recognized the body at once:

"Mauclair! Poor devil! He is dead!" But Mr. Commissary Mifroid, whom nothing surprised, was stooping over
that big body. "No," he said, "he is dead-drunk, which is not quite the same thing." "It's the first time, if so," said the stage-manager

"Then some one has given him a narcotic. That is quite possible." Mifroid went down a few steps and said:

"Look!" By the light of a little red lantern, at the foot of the stairs, they
saw two other bodies. The stage-manager recognized Mauclair's
assistants. Mifroid went down and listened to their breathing. "They are sound asleep," he said. "Very curious business! Some person
unknown must have interfered with the gas-man and his staff ... and
that person unknown was obviously working on behalf of the kidnapper
... But what a funny idea to kidnap a performer on the stage! ... Send
for the doctor of the theater, please." And Mifroid repeated, "Curious,
decidedly curious business!" Then he turned to the little room, addressing the people whom Raoul and
the Persian were unable to see from where they lay. "What do you say to all this, gentlemen? You are the only ones who
have not given your views. And yet you must have an opinion of some
sort." Thereupon, Raoul and the Persian saw the startled faces of the joint
managers appear above the landing--and they heard Moncharmin's excited
voice:

"There are things happening here, Mr. Commissary, which we are unable
to explain." And the two faces disappeared. "Thank you for the information, gentlemen," said Mifroid, with a jeer. But the stage-manager, holding his chin in the hollow of his right
hand, which is the attitude of profound thought, said:

"It is not the first time that Mauclair has fallen asleep in the
theater. I remember finding him, one evening, snoring in his little
recess, with his snuff-box beside him." "Is that long ago?" asked M. Mifroid, carefully wiping his eye-glasses. "No, not so very long ago ... Wait a bit! ... It was the night ... of
course, yes ... It was the night when Carlotta--you know, Mr.
Commissary--gave her famous 'co-ack'!" "Really? The night when Carlotta gave her famous 'co-ack'?" And M. Mifroid, replacing his gleaming glasses on his nose, fixed the
stage-manager with a contemplative stare. "So Mauclair takes snuff, does he?" he asked carelessly. "'Yes, Mr. Commissary ...  Look, there is his snuff-box on that little
shelf ...  Oh! he's a great snuff-taker!" "So am I," said Mifroid and put the snuff-box in his pocket. Raoul and the Persian, themselves unobserved, watched the removal of
the three bodies by a number of scene-shifters, who were followed by
the commissary and all the people with him.