Why toyed with the
monster's heart? Why, in a final access of pity, had she insisted on
flinging, as a last sop to that demon's soul, her divine song:

            "Holy angel, in Heaven blessed,
            My spirit longs with thee to rest!" Raoul, his throat filled with sobs, oaths and insults, fumbled
awkwardly at the great mirror that had opened one night, before his
eyes, to let Christine pass to the murky dwelling below. He pushed,
pressed, groped about, but the glass apparently obeyed no one but Erik
...  Perhaps actions were not enough with a glass of the kind? Perhaps
he was expected to utter certain words? When he was a little boy, he
had heard that there were things that obeyed the spoken word! Suddenly, Raoul remembered something about a gate opening into the Rue
Scribe, an underground passage running straight to the Rue Scribe from
the lake ... Yes, Christine had told him about that...  And, when he
found that the key was no longer in the box, he nevertheless ran to the
Rue Scribe. Outside, in the street, he passed his trembling hands over
the huge stones, felt for outlets ... met with iron bars ... were those
they? ... Or these? ...  Or could it be that air-hole? ... He plunged
his useless eyes through the bars ...  How dark it was in there! ... He
listened ...  All was silence! ... He went round the building ... and
came to bigger bars, immense gates! ... It was the entrance to the Cour
de l'Administration. Raoul rushed into the doorkeeper's lodge. "I beg your pardon, madame, could you tell me where to find a gate or
door, made of bars, iron bars, opening into the Rue Scribe ...  and
leading to the lake? ... You know the lake I mean? ... Yes, the
underground lake ... under the Opera." "Yes, sir, I know there is a lake under the Opera, but I don't know
which door leads to it. I have never been there!" "And the Rue Scribe, madame, the Rue Scribe? Have you never been to
the Rue Scribe?" The woman laughed, screamed with laughter! Raoul darted away, roaring
with anger, ran up-stairs, four stairs at a time, down-stairs, rushed
through the whole of the business side of the opera-house, found
himself once more in the light of the stage. He stopped, with his heart thumping in his chest:  suppose Christine
Daae had been found? He saw a group of men and asked:

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daae
is?" And somebody laughed. At the same moment the stage buzzed with a new sound and, amid a crowd
of men in evening-dress, all talking and gesticulating together,
appeared a man who seemed very calm and displayed a pleasant face, all
pink and chubby-cheeked, crowned with curly hair and lit up by a pair
of wonderfully serene blue eyes. Mercier, the acting-manager, called
the Vicomte de Chagny's attention to him and said:

"This is the gentleman to whom you should put your question, monsieur. Let me introduce Mifroid, the commissary of police." "Ah, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! Delighted to meet you, monsieur," said
the commissary. "Would you mind coming with me? ... And now where are
the managers? ... Where are the managers?" Mercier did not answer, and Remy, the secretary, volunteered the
information that the managers were locked up in their office and that
they knew nothing as yet of what had happened. "You don't mean to say so! Let us go up to the office!" And M. Mifroid, followed by an ever-increasing crowd, turned toward the
business side of the building. Mercier took advantage of the confusion
to slip a key into Gabriel's hand:

"This is all going very badly," he whispered. "You had better let
Mother Giry out." And Gabriel moved away. They soon came to the managers' door. Mercier stormed in vain: the
door remained closed. "Open in the name of the law!" commanded M. Mifroid, in a loud and
rather anxious voice. At last the door was opened. All rushed in to the office, on the
commissary's heels. Raoul was the last to enter. As he was about to follow the rest into
the room, a hand was laid on his shoulder and he heard these words
spoken in his ear:

"ERIK'S SECRETS CONCERN NO ONE BUT HIMSELF!" He turned around, with a stifled exclamation. The hand that was laid
on his shoulder was now placed on the lips of a person with an ebony
skin, with eyes of jade and with an astrakhan cap on his head: the
Persian! The stranger kept up the gesture that recommended discretion
and then, at the moment when the astonished viscount was about to ask
the reason of his mysterious intervention, bowed and disappeared. Chapter XVI  Mme. Giry's Astounding Revelations as to Her Personal
Relations with the Opera Ghost


Before following the commissary into the manager's office I must
describe certain extraordinary occurrences that took place in that
office which Remy and Mercier had vainly tried to enter and into which
MM. Richard and Moncharmin had locked themselves with an object which
the reader does not yet know, but which it is my duty, as an historian,
to reveal without further postponement. I have had occasion to say that the managers' mood had undergone a
disagreeable change for some time past and to convey the fact that this
change was due not only to the fall of the chandelier on the famous
night of the gala performance. The reader must know that the ghost had calmly been paid his first
twenty thousand francs. Oh, there had been wailing and gnashing of
teeth, indeed! And yet the thing had happened as simply as could be. One morning, the managers found on their table an envelope addressed to
"Monsieur O. G. (private)" and accompanied by a note from O. G. himself:

The time has come to carry out the clause in the memorandum-book. Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope,
seal it with your own seal and hand it to Mme. Giry, who will do what
is necessary. The managers did not hesitate; without wasting time in asking how these
confounded communications came to be delivered in an office which they
were careful to keep locked, they seized this opportunity of laying
hands, on the mysterious blackmailer. And, after telling the whole
story, under the promise of secrecy, to Gabriel and Mercier, they put
the twenty thousand francs into the envelope and without asking for
explanations, handed it to Mme. Giry, who had been reinstated in her
functions. The box-keeper displayed no astonishment. I need hardly
say that she was well watched. She went straight to the ghost's box
and placed the precious envelope on the little shelf attached to the
ledge. The two managers, as well as Gabriel and Mercier, were hidden
in such a way that they did not lose sight of the envelope for a second
during the performance and even afterward, for, as the envelope had not
moved, those who watched it did not move either; and Mme. Giry went
away while the managers, Gabriel and Mercier were still there. At
last, they became tired of waiting and opened the envelope, after
ascertaining that the seals had not been broken.