Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the seventeenth chapter of The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux.

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Take a look in a book and let's see what we can find take a chapter by chapter one by one at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word for word, line by line we Fight at a Time.

Video welcome to Bite at a Time books, where we read you your favorite classics.

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Today we'll be continuing the Phantom of the Opera magistan Laraux.

Chapter 17 the Safety Pin.

Again, Montcharmin's last phrase, so dearly expressed the suspicion in which he now held his partner that it was bound to cause a stormy explanation, at the end of which it was agreed that Richard should yield to all moncharmin's wishes with the object of helping him to discover the miscreant who was victimizing them.

This brings us to the interval after the Garden Act, with a strange conduct observed by Monsieur Remy and those curious lapses from the dignity that might be expected of the managers, it was arranged between Richard and Moncharmin.

First, that Richard should repeat the exact movements which he had made on the night of the disappearance of the first 200 francs and second, that Monsiermin should not for an instant lose sight of Richard's coattail pocket into which Madame Jirey was to slip the 200 francs Monteer.

Richard went and placed himself at the identical spot where he had stood.

When he bowed to the Undersecretary for Fine Arts, monsieur Moncharmin took up his position a step behind him.

Madame Jiree passed, rubbed up against Monsieur Richard, got rid of her 200 francs in the manager's coattail pocket, and disappeared.

Or rather, she was conjured away, in accordance with the instructions received from Moncharmin a few minutes earlier.

Mercier took the good lady to the acting manager's office and turned the key on her, thus making it impossible for her to communicate with her ghost.

Meanwhile, Monsieur Richard was bending and bowing and scraping and walking backward, just as if he had that high and mighty minister, the Undersecretary for Fine Arts, before him.

Only though these marks of politeness would have created no astonishment if the undersecretary of state had really been in front of Monsieur Richard.

They caused an easy, comprehensible amazement to the spectators of this very natural but quite inexplicable scene.

When Monsieur Richard had no body in front of him, monsieur Richard bowed to nobody, bent his back before nobody, and walked backward before nobody and a few steps behind him, monsieur Moncharmin did the same thing that he was doing.

In addition to pushing away Monsieur Remy and begging Monsieur de la Bourdee, the ambassador and the manager of the Credit Central, not to touch Monsieur le director monscharmin, who had his own ideas, did not want Richard to come.

To him presently when the 200 francs were gone and say, perhaps it was the ambassador or the manager of the Credit Central or Remy.

The more so as at the time of the first scene.

As Richard himself admitted, richard had met nobody in that part of the theatre after Madame Jiree had brushed up against him.

Having begun by walking backward in order to bow, richard continued to do so from prudence until he reached the passage leading to the offices of the management.

In this way he was constantly watched by Mon Sherman from behind and himself kept an eye on anyone approaching from the front.

Once more, this novel method of walking behind the scenes, adopted by the managers of our National Academy of Music, attracted attention, but the managers themselves thought of nothing but their 200 francs.

On reaching the halfdark passage, Richard said to Moncharmin in a low voice I'm sure that nobody's touched me.

You would now better keep it some distance from me and watch me till I come to the door of the office.

It is better not to arouse suspicion and we can see anything that happens.

But Montermin replied no, Richard, no.

You walk ahead and I'll walk immediately behind you.

I won't leave you by a step.

But in that case, exclaimed Richard, they will never steal our 200 francs.

I should hope not indeed, declared Moncharmin.

Then what we are doing is absurd.

We are doing exactly what we did last time.

Last time I joined you as you were leaving the stage and followed close behind you down this passage.

That's true, sighed Richard, shaking his head and passively obeying Montcharmin.

Two minutes later, the joint managers locked themselves into their office.

Moncharmin himself put the key in his pocket.

We remained locked up like this last time, he said, until you left the opera to go home.

That's so.

No one came and disturbed us, I suppose?

No one then, said Richard, who was trying to collect his memory.

Then I must certainly have been robbed on my way home from the opera.

No, said Moncharmin in a drier tone than ever.

No, that's impossible, for I dropped you in my cab.

The 20,000 francs disappeared at your place.

There's not a shadow of a doubt about that.

It's incredible.

Protested Richard.

I'm sure, of my servants.

And if one of them had done it, he would have disappeared.

Since Moncharmin shrugged his shoulders as though to say that he did not wish to enter into details, and Richard began to think that Moncharmin was treating him in a very insupportable fashion.

Moncharmin.

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 200 francs.

That's what I think, declared Moncharmin, 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 I take you home.

Like last time?

Yes, like last time.

Richard snatched the paper from Moncharmin's hands.

Moncharmin stood up, more 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 moment of parting, I perceived that 200 francs had disappeared from my coat pocket like last time.

And what might you think?

Asked Moncharmin crimson with rage.

I might think that as you hadn't left me by a foot's breath, and as by your own wish, you were the only one to approach me like last time, I might think that if that 200 francs was no longer in my pocket, it stood a very good chance of being in yours.

Montermin leapt 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 200 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 Montcharmin 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 safety pin, was received by Montcharmin, while a boy procured the pin so eagerly longed for.

And what happened was this montremin first locked the door again.

Then he knelt down behind Richard's back.

I hope, he said, that the notes are still there.

So do I.

Said Richard.

The real ones?

Asked Moncharmin, resolved not to be had this time.

Look for yourself, said Richard.

I refuse to touch them.

Moncharmin 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.

Then he sat down behind Richard's coattails and kept his eyes fixed on them, while Richard, sitting at his writing table, did not stir.

A little patience.

Richard said montcharmin.

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.

I shall end by believing in the omnipotence of the ghost, he said just now.

Don't you find something uncomfortable, disquieting, alarming in the atmosphere of this room?

You're quite right, said Moncharmine, who was really impressed.

The ghost, continued Richard in a low voice, as though fearing lest he should be overheard by invisible ears.

The ghost.

Suppose, all the same, it were a ghost.

Who puts the magic envelopes on the table, who talks in box five, who killed Joseph Buuquette, who unhooked the chandelier, and who robs us?

For after all after all, after all, there's 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 mantelpiece gave its warning click, and the first stroke of twelve struck.

The two managers shuddered.

The perspiration streamed from their foreheads.

The twelve strokes 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.

I think so, Richard agreed.

Before we go, do you mind if I look in your pocket?

But of course, Moncharmin.

You must.

Well?

He asked, as Moncharmin was feeling at the pocket.

Well, I can feel the pin.

Of course.

As you said, we can't be robbed without noticing it.

But Moncharmin, whose hands were still fumbling, bellowed, I can feel the pen.

But I can't feel the notes.

Come.

No.

Joking, Moncharmin.

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 Moncharmine turned pale.

There was no longer any doubt about the witchcraft.

The ghost, muttered Moncharmin, but Richard suddenly sprang upon his partner.

No one but you has touched my pocket.

Give me back my 200 francs.

Give me back my 200 francs.

On my soul, sighed Moncharmin, who was ready to swoon.

On my soul, I swear that I haven't got it.

Then somebody knocked at the door.

Montcharmin 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 youth into the hands of his bewildered subordinate.

Thank you for joining Byte at a Time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

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