Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 201, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 August 1912 — The PHANTOM OP THE OPERA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The PHANTOM OP THE OPERA

bt Gaston Leroux

Author THE • MY9TERY •GT • THE • YELLOW ROOM* and TME-PEREUME-OE-TME-LADY : IN-bLACK--111 iJ3tr<atJons- £>y MGfiettnerCbpys~/<?bt /g// by 7/fe 3obbs-Merr/// Company

synopsis. Consternation la caused on the last Plgth that the Opera Is managed by Deblenne and Pollgny because of the appearance of a ghost, said to have been In evidence on several previous occasions. Christine Daae, a member of the opera company. Is called upon to fill a very Important part and scores a great success. Count de Chagny and his brother Raoul are among those who applaud the Singer. Raoul tries to see Christine In the dressing room, but is unable to do so and later discovers that some one is makIng love to her. She emerges alone, and upon entering the room he finds It empty. While the farewell ceremony for the retiring managers is going on, the OperaGhost appears and Informs the new managers that Box No. 5 Is reserved for him. Box No. 5 is sold with disastrous results, The managers receive a letter from the Opera Ghost calling attention to the error. Christine Daae writes Raoul that she has gone to visit the grave of her father. He goes also, and In the night follows her to the church. Wonderful violin music is heard. Racul visits a graveyard. Raoul is found next morning almost frozen. Moncharmln and Richard Investigate Box No. 5 and decide to see the performance of "Faust" from front seats of that box. Carlotta, who sings the leading part in "Faust,' is warned to give the part to Christine. Carlotta, refusing, loses hsr voice in the middle of a song and the main chandelier crashes down, killing a woman and wounding many. Raoul searches for Christine, who has disappeared. He sees her at last, but does not speak, and later a note is received from her making an appointment for a masked ball. Raoul meets Christine at the ball. He sees a person In the disguise of Red Death. He hears her conversing with some one whom she calls Erik. Raoul visits Christine and tells her he knows the name of the unseen man whom she calls the Angel of Music. Christine and Raoul become secretly engaged prior to a polar expedition that Raoul is to make. Christine relates a strapge adventure with the unseen Erik and promises to run away with Raoul. Raoul announces Ills Intention of marrying Christine, which displeases Philippe. In the midst of a performance the stage is enveloped In- darkness and Christine disappears. No trace of her is found. Moncharmln and Richard behave strangely. Raoul searches madly for the missing singer. The Opera Ghost demands the first installment of his allowance, and when it is left at an appointed place the sum mysteriously disappears. CHAPTER XVll—(Continued). "Moncharmln, I’ve had enough of this!’ “Richard, I’ve had too much of it!" - "Do you dare to suspect me?” “Yes, of a silly joke.” “One doesn’t joke with twenty-thou-sand francs.” “That’s what 1 think,” declared Moncharmln, unfolding a newspaper and ostentatiously studying its contents. “What are you doing?" asked Richard. “Are you going to read the paper next?” “Yes, Richard, until 1 take you home.” “Like last time?” “Yes, like last time." Richard snatched the paper from

Monchannln's hands. Mon charmin stood up. mors Irritated than ever, and found himself faced by an exasperated Richard, who, crossing his arms on his chest, said: “Look here. I’m thinking of this, I’m thinking of what I might think If, like last time, after my spending the evening alone with you, you brought me home and If, at the moPunt of parting, I perceived that

twenty-thousand francs had disappeared from my coat-pocket . . . like last time.” “And what might you think?” asked Moncharmln, crimson with rage. “I might think that, as you hadn’t left me by a foot’s breadth and as, by your own wish, you were the only one to approach me, like last time, 1 might think that, if that twenty-thou-sand francs was no longer in my pocket, It stood a very good chance of being in youra!"—!———— Moncharmln leaped up at the suggestion. “Oh!” he shouted. “A safety-pin!” “What do you want a safety-pin for?" “To fasten you up with! ... A safety-pin! ... A safety-pin!” “You want to fasten me with a safety-pin?” “Yes, to fasten you to the twentythousand francs! Then, whether it’s here, or on the drive from here to your place, or at your place, you will feel the hand that pulls at your pocket and you will see if It’s mine! Oh, so you’re suspecting me now, are you? A safety-pin! ’’ And that was the moment when Moncharmin opened the door on the passage and shouted: “A safety-pin! . . . somebody give me a safety-pin!” And we also know how, at the same moment, Remy, who had no safetypin, was received by Moncharmln, while a boy jyocured the pin so eagerly longed for. And what happened was this: Moncharmln first locked the door again. Then he knelt down behind Richard’s back. “1 hope,” he said, “that the notes are still there ” “So do I,” said Richard. “The real ones?” asked Moncharmln, resolved not to be “had” this time. “Look for yourself,” said Richard. “I refuse to touch them.” Moncharmln took the envelope from Richard’s pocket and drew out the bank-notes with a trembling hand, for, this time, in order frequently to make sure of the presence of the notes, he had not sealed the envelope nor even fastened it. He felt reassured on finding that they were all there and quite genuine. He put them back in the tail-pocket and pinned them with great care. "A little patience, Richard,” said Moncharmln. “We have only a few minutes to wait. ... The clock will soon strike twelve. Last time,

we left at the last stroke of twelve.” “Oh, I shall have all the patience necessary!" The time passed, slow, heavy, mysterious, stifling. Richard tried to laugh. ~ shall end by believing in the omnipotence of the ghost,” he said. “Just now, don’t you And something uncomfortable, disquieting, alarming in the atmosphere of this room!”

“You’re quite right,” Mid Moncharmln, who wax really Impressed. “The ghost!* 1 continued Richard, in a low voloe, as though fearing lest he should be overheard by invisible ears. “The ghost! Suppose, ail the same, it wore a ghost who puts the magic envelopes on the table . . . who talks in Box Five . . . who killed Joseph Buquet . . . who unhooked the chandelier . . . and who robs us! For, after all, after ail, after ail, there Is no one here except you and me, and, If the notes disappear and neither you nor I have anything to do with it, well, we shall have to believe In the ghost . . . in the ghost!” At that moment, the clock on the mantlepiece gave its warning click and the first stroke of twelve struck. The two managers shuddered. The perspiration streamed from their fore heads. The twelfth stroke sounded strangely in their ears. When the clock stopped, they gave a sigh and rose from their chairs. “I think we can go now," said Moncharmin. “1 think so,” Richardagreed. "Before we go, do you mind if 1 look tn your pocket?” “But, of course, Moncharmln, you must! . . • Well?” he asked, as Moncharmln was feeling at the pocket. “Well, 1 can feel the pin." “Of course, as you said, we can’t be robbed without noticing it’* But Moncharmln, whose hands were still fumbling, bellowed: “I can feel the pin, but 1 can’t feel the notes!" “Come, no joking, Moncharmln! . . . This isn’t the time for it" “Well, feel for yourself." Richard tore off his coat. The two managers turned the pocket inside out. The pocket was empty. And the curious thing was that the pin remained, stuck in the same place. Richard and Moncharmln turned pale. There was no longer any doubt about the witchcraft. “The ghost!” muttered Moncharmln But Richard suddenly sprang upon his partner. “No one but you has touched my pocket! Give me back my twentythousand francs! ■ . Give me back my twenty-thousand francs!” “On my soul,” sighed Moncharmln, who was ready to swoon, “on my soul, I swpar that I haven’t got it!” Then somebody, knocked at the door. Moncharmln opened it automatically, seemed hardly to recognize Mercier, his business-manager, exchanged a few words with him, without knowing what he was saying and, with an unconscious movement, put the safety-pin, for which he had no further use, into the hands of his bewildered subordinate. . . .

CHAPTER XVIII. <\ The Commissary, the Viscount and the Persian. The first words of the commissary of police, on entering the managers office, were to ask after the missing prima donna. “Is Christine Daae here?" “Christine Daae here?” echoed Rlchard. “No. Why?” As for Moncharmln, he had not the strength left to utter a word. Richard repeated, for the commissary and the compact crowd which had followed him into the office observed an Impressive silence. “Why do you ask if Christine Daae is hepe, M. le commissaire?” “Because she has to be found,” declared the commissary of police solemnly. “What do you mean, she has to be found? Has she disappeared?" “In the middle of the performance!" “In the middle of the performance? This is extraordinary!” “Isn’t it? And what is quite as extraordinary is that you should first learn it from me!” « “Yes,” said Richard, taking his head tn his hands and muttering. “What is this new business? Oh, it's enough to make a man send in his resignation ! ” And he pulled a few hairs out of his mustache without even knowing what he was doing. “So she ... so she disappeared in the middle of the performance?” he repeated. • “Yes, she was carried off in the Prison Act, at the moment when she was invoking the aid of the angels; but I doubt if she was carried off by an angel.” "And 1 am sure that she was!" Everybody looked round. A young man, pale and trembling with excitement, repeated: “I am sure of it!” “Sure of what?” asked Mlfroid. “Thit Christine Daae was carried off by an angel. M. le comjnissaire, and I can tell name." “Aha, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! So you maintain that Christine Daae was carried off by an angel; an angel of the opera, no doubt?" "Yes, monsieur, by an angel of the opera; and I <vlll tell you where he lives .... . . when we are alone." “You are right, monsieur," And the commissary of “police, inviting Raoul to take a chair, cleared the room of all the rest, excepting the managers. Then Raoul spoke: “M. le commissaire, the angel is called Erik, he lives in the opera and he is the Angel of Music!” “The Angel of Music! Really! That is very curious! '. . , The Angel of Music!” And, turning to the managers, M. Mlfroid asked, “Have you an Angel of Music on the premises, gentlemen T’ Richard and- Moncharmln shook their heads, without even speaking. "Oh,” said the viscount, “those gentlemen have heard of the opera ghost. Well, I am in a position to state that the opera ghost and the

Angel of Music are one and the same person; and his real name is Erik." M. Mlfroid rose and looked at Raoul attentively. “I beg your pardon, monsieur, but Is it your intention to make fun of the law? And, if not, what is all this about the opera ghost?” —"I say that these gentlemen have heard of him." “Gentlemen, it appears that you know the opera ghost?” Richard rose, with the remaining hairs of his mustache in bls hand. "No, M. Commissary, no, we do not know him, but we wish that we did, for this very evening he has robbed us of twenty-thousand francs!” And Richard turned a terrible look on Moncharmln, which seemed to say: “Give me back the twenty-thousand francs, or I’ll tell the whole story.” Moncharmln understood what he meant, for, with a distracted gesture, he said: “Oh, tell everything and have done with it!" As for Mlfroid, he looked at the managers and at Raoul by turns and wondered whether he had strayed into a lunatic asylum. He passed his hand through his hair

“A ghost,” ire said, “who, on the same evening, carries off an opera singer and steals twenty-thousand francs Is a ghost who must have his hands very full! If you don’t mind, we will take the questions in order. The singer first, twenty-thousand francs after. Come, M. de Chagny, let us try to talk seriously. You believe that Mlle. Christine Daae has been carried off by an Individual called Erik. Do you know this person? Have you seen him?" “Yes.” “Where?” “In a churchyard.” M. Mlfroid gave a start, began to scrutinize Raoul again and said; “Of course! . . . That's where ghosts usually hang out! . . . And what were you doing In that churchyard?” ‘Monsieur,” said Raoul, “1 can quite understand how absurd my ro plies must seem to you. But 1 beg you to believe that 1 am In full possession of my faculties. The safety of the person dearest to me In the world Is at stake. 1 should like to convince you in a few words, for time Is pressing and every minute Is valuable. Unfortunately, if 1 do not tell you the strangest story that ever was from the beginning, you will not believe me. I will tell you all 1 know about the opera ghost, M. Commissary. Alas, Ido not know-much? ." “Never mind, go on, go on!" exclaimed Richard and Moncharmln. suddenly Interested. Unfortunately for their hopes of learning some detail that could put them on the track of their hoaxer, they were soon compelled to accept the fact that M. Raoul de Chagny had completely lost pls head. The door opened and a man entered, curiously dressed in an enormous frock-coat and a tall bat, at once shabby and shiny, that came down to his ears. He went up to the commissary and spoke to him in a whisper. It was doubtless a detective come to deliver an important communication. During this conversation M. Mlfroid did not take his eyes off RaouL At last, addressing him, he said: “Monsieur, we have talked enough about the ghost. We will now talk about yourself a little, if you have no objection; you were to carry off Mlle. Christine Daae tonight?” "Yes. M. le commissaire.” “After the performance?" "Yes. M. le commissaire.” “Al' your arrangements were made?” “Yes, M. le commissaire.”

"The carriage that brought you waa to take you both away. . . . There were fresh horses in readiness at every stage. . . •” “That is true, M. le commissaire." “And nevertheless your carriage Is still outside the Rotunda awaiting your orders, is it not?" “Yes, M. le commissaire." “Did you know that there were three other carriages there, in addition to yours?" “I did not pay the least attention." “They were the carriages of Mlle. Borelli, which could not find room in the Cour de I’Administration; of Carlotta, and of your brother, M. is Comte 'de Chagny. . . ." "Very likely. . . ." "What is certain is that though your carriage and Borelll’s and Carlotta’s are still there, by the Rotunda pavement, M. le Comte de Chagny’a carriage is gone.” “This has nothing to say to . . .” le Comte opposed to your marriage with Mlle. Daae?” "That is a master 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 asce*tain, 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, “1 shall catch them!" And he rushed out of the office. “And bring her back to us!” cried the commissary gaily. . . . “Ah, that’s a trick worth two of the Angel of Music’s!” ’ And, turnixg to bis 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 1 believe that, at this moment, no one Is more anxious to inform us than bls 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 as 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 41mself 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. “TVs 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! . am the' Persian!" ' (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Give Me Back My Twenty Thousand Francs!”

“You, Who Know Erik’s secrets and Don’t Want Me to Speak of Them. Who Are You?”