Sorelli, which could not find room in
the Cour de l'Administration; of Carlotta; and of your brother, M. le
Comte de Chagny..."

"Very likely..."

"What is certain is that, though your carriage and Sorelli's and
Carlotta's are still there, by the Rotunda pavement, M. le Comte de
Chagny's carriage is gone." "This has nothing to say to ..."

"I beg your pardon. Was not M. le Comte opposed to your marriage with
Mlle. Daae?" "That is a matter that only concerns the family." "You have answered my question:  he was opposed to it ... and that was
why you were carrying Christine Daae out of your brother's reach...
Well, M. de Chagny, allow me to inform you that your brother has been
smarter than you! It is he who has carried off Christine Daae!" "Oh, impossible!" moaned Raoul, pressing his hand to his heart. "Are
you sure?" "Immediately after the artist's disappearance, which was procured by
means which we have still to ascertain, he flung into his carriage,
which drove right across Paris at a furious pace." "Across Paris?" asked poor Raoul, in a hoarse voice. "What do you mean
by across Paris?" "Across Paris and out of Paris ... by the Brussels road." "Oh," cried the young man, "I shall catch them!" And he rushed out of
the office. "And bring her back to us!" cried the commisary gaily ...  "Ah, that's
a trick worth two of the Angel of Music's!" And, turning to his audience, M. Mifroid delivered a little lecture on
police methods. "I don't know for a moment whether M. le Comte de Chagny has really
carried Christine Daae off or not ... but I want to know and I believe
that, at this moment, no one is more anxious to inform us than his
brother ...  And now he is flying in pursuit of him! He is my chief
auxiliary! This, gentlemen, is the art of the police, which is
believed to be so complicated and which, nevertheless appears so simple
as soon its you see that it consists in getting your work done by
people who have nothing to do with the police." But M. le Commissaire de Police Mifroid would not have been quite so
satisfied with himself if he had known that the rush of his rapid
emissary was stopped at the entrance to the very first corridor. A
tall figure blocked Raoul's way. "Where are you going so fast, M. de Chagny?" asked a voice. Raoul impatiently raised his eyes and recognized the astrakhan cap of
an hour ago. He stopped:

"It's you!" he cried, in a feverish voice. "You, who know Erik's
secrets and don't want me to speak of them. Who are you?" "You know who I am! ... I am the Persian!" Chapter XIX  The Viscount and the Persian


Raoul now remembered that his brother had once shown him that
mysterious person, of whom nothing was known except that he was a
Persian and that he lived in a little old-fashioned flat in the Rue de
Rivoli. The man with the ebony skin, the eyes of jade and the astrakhan cap
bent over Raoul. "I hope, M. de Chagny," he said, "that you have not betrayed Erik's
secret?" "And why should I hesitate to betray that monster, sir?" Raoul rejoined
haughtily, trying to shake off the intruder. "Is he your friend, by
any chance?" "I hope that you said nothing about Erik, sir, because Erik's secret is
also Christine Daae's and to talk about one is to talk about the other!" "Oh, sir," said Raoul, becoming more and more impatient, "you seem to
know about many things that interest me; and yet I have no time to
listen to you!" "Once more, M. de Chagny, where are you going so fast?" "Can not you guess? To Christine Daae's assistance..."

"Then, sir, stay here, for Christine Daae is here!" "With Erik?" "With Erik." "How do you know?" "I was at the performance and no one in the world but Erik could
contrive an abduction like that! ... Oh," he said, with a deep sigh, "I
recognized the monster's touch! ..."

"You know him then?" The Persian did not reply, but heaved a fresh sigh. "Sir," said Raoul, "I do not know what your intentions are, but can you
do anything to help me? I mean, to help Christine Daae?" "I think so, M. de Chagny, and that is why I spoke to you." "What can you do?" "Try to take you to her ... and to him." "If you can do me that service, sir, my life is yours! ... One word
more:  the commissary of police tells me that Christine Daae has been
carried off by my brother, Count Philippe." "Oh, M. de Chagny, I don't believe a word of it." "It's not possible, is it?" "I don't know if it is possible or not; but there are ways and ways of
carrying people off; and M. le Comte Philippe has never, as far as I
know, had anything to do with witchcraft." "Your arguments are convincing, sir, and I am a fool! ... Oh, let us
make haste! I place myself entirely in your hands! ...  How should I
not believe you, when you are the only one to believe me ... when you
are the only one not to smile when Erik's name is mentioned?" And the young man impetuously seized the Persian's hands. They were
ice-cold. "Silence!" said the Persian, stopping and listening to the distant
sounds of the theater. "We must not mention that name here. Let us
say 'he' and 'him;' then there will be less danger of attracting his
attention." "Do you think he is near us?" "It is quite possible, Sir, if he is not, at this moment, with his
victim, IN THE HOUSE ON THE LAKE." "Ah, so you know that house too?" "If he is not there, he may be here, in this wall, in this floor, in
this ceiling! ... Come!" And the Persian, asking Raoul to deaden the sound of his footsteps, led
him down passages which Raoul had never seen before, even at the time
when Christine used to take him for walks through that labyrinth. "If only Darius has come!" said the Persian. "Who is Darius?" "Darius? My servant." They were now in the center of a real deserted square, an immense
apartment ill-lit by a small lamp. The Persian stopped Raoul and, in
the softest of whispers, asked:

"What did you say to the commissary?" "I said that Christine Daae's abductor was the Angel of Music, ALIAS
the Opera ghost, and that the real name was ..."

"Hush! ... And did he believe you?" "No." "He attached no importance to what you said?" "No." "He took you for a bit of a madman?" "Yes." "So much the better!" sighed the Persian. And they continued their road. After going up and down several
staircases which Raoul had never seen before, the two men found
themselves in front of a door which the Persian opened with a
master-key. The Persian and Raoul were both, of course, in
dress-clothes; but, whereas Raoul had a tall hat, the Persian wore the
astrakhan cap which I have already mentioned. It was an infringement
of the rule which insists upon the tall hat behind the scenes; but in
France foreigners are allowed every license: the Englishman his
traveling-cap, the Persian his cap of astrakhan. "Sir," said the Persian, "your tall hat will be in your way: you would
do well to leave it in the dressing-room." "What dressing-room?" asked Raoul. "Christine Daae's."