The Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux (bill gates best books .TXT) 📗

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 gasman, 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 someone 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 gasman 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 snuffbox beside him.”

“Is that long ago?” asked M. Mifroid, carefully wiping his eyeglasses.

“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 snuffbox on that little shelf.⁠ ⁠… Oh, he’s a great snuff-taker!”

“So am I,” said Mifroid and put the snuffbox 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. Their steps were heard for a few minutes on the stage above. When they were alone the Persian made a sign to Raoul to stand up. Raoul did so; but, as he did not lift his hand in front of his eyes, ready to fire, the Persian told him to resume that attitude and to continue it, whatever happened.

“But it tires the hand unnecessarily,” whispered Raoul. “If I do fire, I shan’t be sure of my aim.”

“Then shift your pistol to the other hand,” said the Persian.

“I can’t shoot with my left hand.”

Thereupon, the Persian made this queer reply, which was certainly not calculated to throw light into the young man’s flurried brain:

“It’s not a question of shooting with the right hand or the left; it’s a question of holding one of your hands as though you were going to pull the trigger of a pistol with your arm bent. As for the pistol itself, when all is said, you can put that in your pocket!” And he added, “Let this be clearly understood, or I will answer for nothing. It is a matter of life and death. And now, silence and follow me!”

The cellars of the Opera are enormous and they are five in number. Raoul followed the Persian and wondered what he would have done without his companion in that extraordinary labyrinth. They went down to the third cellar; and their progress was still lit by some distant lamp.

The lower they went, the more precautions the Persian seemed to take. He kept on turning to Raoul to see if he was holding his arm properly, showing him how he himself carried his hand as if always ready to fire, though the pistol was in his pocket.

Suddenly, a loud voice made them stop. Someone above them shouted:

“All the door-shutters on the stage! The commissary of police wants them!”

Steps