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

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Wherever you listen to podcasts today, we'll be continuing the Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Laraux.

Chapter 14 the Singular Attitude of a Safety Pin behind the curtain there was an indescribable crowd.

Artists, scene shifters, dancers, supers choirsters, subscribers were all asking questions, shouting and hustling one another.

What became of her?

She's run away with the Vikan deshankni, of course.

No, with the count.

Ah, here's Carlota.

Carlota did the trick.

No, it was the ghost.

And a few laughed, especially as a careful examination of the trap doors and boards had put the idea of an accident out of the question.

Amid this noisy throng, three men stood talking in a low voice and with despairing gestures.

They were Gabriel, the chorus master, mercier, the acting manager, and Remy, the secretary.

They retired to a corner of the lobby by which the stage communicates with a wide passage leading to the foyer of the ballet.

Here they stood and argued behind some enormous properties.

I knocked at the door, said Remy.

They did not answer.

Perhaps they are not in the office.

In any case, it's impossible to find out, for they took the keys with them.

They were obviously the managers who had given orders during the last intract that they were not to be disturbed on any pretext.

Whatever.

They were not into anybody.

All the same, exclaimed Gabriel, a singer isn't run away with from the middle of the stage every day.

Did you shout that to them?

Asked Marcia impatiently.

I'll go back again, said Remy, and disappeared at a run.

Thereupon, the stage manager arrived.

Well, Monsieur mercier.

Are you coming?

What are you two doing here?

You're wanted, Mr.

Acting Manager.

I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives, declared Mercier.

I've sent for me, Freud.

We shall see when he comes.

And I tell you that you ought to go down to the organ at once.

Not before the commissary comes.

I've been down to the organ myself already.

And what did you see?

Well, I saw nobody, do you hear?

Nobody.

What do you want me to do down there for sick?

You're right, said the stage manager, frantically pushing his hands through his rebellious hair.

You're right.

But there might be someone at the organ who could tell us how the stage came to be suddenly darkened.

Now Moclaire is nowhere to be found.

Do you understand that McLare was the gas man who dispensed day and night at will on the stage of the opera?

Mau Claire is not to be found, repeated Marcia, taking aback.

Well, what about his assistance?

There's no Mau Claire and no assistance.

No one at the lights, I tell you.

You can imagine, roared the stage manager.

Not that little girl must have been carried off by somebody else.

She didn't run away by herself.

It was a calculated stroke, and we have to find out about it.

And what are the managers doing all this time?

I gave orders that no one was to go down to the lights, and I posted a fireman in front of the gas man's box beside the organ.

Wasn't that right?

Yes, yes, quite right, quite right.

And now let's wait for the commissary.

The stage manager walked away, shrugging his shoulders fuming, muttering insults at those milksops who remained quietly squatting in a corner while the whole theater was topsyturvy.

Gabriel and Mercier were not so quiet as all that.

Only they had received an order that paralyzed them.

The managers were not to be disturbed on any account.

Remy had violated that order and met with no success.

At that moment he returned from his new expedition wearing a curiously startled air.

Well, have you seen them?

Asked Marcia.

Moncharmin opened the door at last.

His eyes were starting out of his head.

I thought he meant to strike me.

I could not get a word in.

And what do you think?

He shouted at me.

Have you a safety pin?

No.

Well, then, clear out.

I tried to tell him that an unheard of thing had happened on the stage, but he roared, a safety pin.

Get me a safety pin.

At once.

A boy heard him.

He was bellowing like a bull, ran up with a safety pin and gave it to him.

Whereupon Montcharmin slammed the door in my face, and there you are.

And couldn't you have said Christine Dale, I should have liked to see you in my place.

He was foaming at the mouth.

He thought of nothing but his safety pin.

I believe if they hadn't brought him one on the spot, he would have fallen down in a fit.

Oh, all this isn't natural, and our managers are going mad.

Besides, it can't go on like this.

I'm not used to being treated in that fashion.

Suddenly Gabriel whispered, it's another trick of OGS.

Remy gave a grin, Mercier a sigh and seemed about to speak.

But meeting Gabriel's eye said nothing.

However, Mercier felt his responsibility increased as the minutes passed without the managers appearing, and at last he could stand it no longer.

Look here.

I'll go and hunt him out myself.

Gabriel turning very gloomy, and Sirius stopped him.

Be careful what you're doing, Mercier.

If they're staying in their office, it's probably because they have to.

OG has more than one trick in his bag.

But Mercier shook his head.

That's their lookout.

I'm going.

If people had listened to me, the police would have known everything long ago.

And he went.

What's everything?

Asked Remy.

What was there to tell the police?

Why don't you answer, Gabriel?

So you know something.

Well, you would do better to tell me too, if you don't want me to shout out that you're all going mad.

Yes, that's what you are mad.

Gabriel put on a stupid look and pretended not to understand the private secretary's unseemly outburst.

What something am I supposed to know?

He said.

I don't know what you mean.

Remmy began to lose his temper this evening.

Richard and Montcharmin were behaving like lunatics here between the axe.

I never noticed it, growled Gabriel, very much annoyed.

Then you were the only one?

Do you think that I didn't see them?

And that Monsieur Parabees, the manager of the Credit Central, noticed nothing?

And that Monsieur de la Bourdee, the ambassador, has no eyes to see with why all the subscribers were pointing at our managers.

But what were our managers doing?

Asked Gabriel, putting on his most innocent air.

What were they doing?

You know better than anyone what they were doing.

You were there and you were watching them, you and Mercier.

And you were the only two who didn't laugh.

I don't understand.

April raised his arms and dropped them to his sides again.

Which gesture was meant to convey that the question did not interest him in the least?

Remy continued, what is the sense of this new mania of theirs?

Why won't they have anyone come near them now?

What?

Won't they have anyone come near them?

And they won't let anyone touch them.

Really?

Have you noticed that they won't let anyone touch them?

That is certainly odd.

So you admit it in high time too.

And then they walk backward.

Backward?

You've seen our managers walk backward?

Why, I thought that only crabs walked backward.

Don't laugh.

Gabriel.

Don't laugh.

I'm not laughing, protested Gabriel, looking as solemn as a judge.

Perhaps you can tell me this, Gabriel, as you're an intimate friend of the management.

When I went up to Monsieur Richard outside the foyer during the garden interval with my hand out before me, why did Monsieur Moncharmin hurriedly whisper to me go away, go away.

Whatever you do, don't touch Monsieur le director, am I supposed to have an infectious disease?

It's incredible.

And a little while later, when Monsieur de la Bourdee went up to Monsieur Richard, didn't you see Monsieur Monsarmin fling himself between them and hear him exclaim?

Montreal ambassador?

I entreat you not to touch Moncharday, director, it's terrible.

And what was Richard doing meanwhile?

What was he doing?

Why, you saw him.

He turned about, bowed in front of him, though there was nobody in front of him, and withdrew backward, backward.

And Moncharmin behind Richard, also turned about, that is, he described a semicircle behind Richard, and also walked backward.

And they went like that to the staircase leading to the manager's office.

Backward, backward, backward.

Well, if they're not mad, will you explain what it means?

Perhaps they were practicing a figure in the ballet, suggested Gabriel, without much conviction in his voice.

The secretary was furious at this wretched joke, made it so dramatic a moment.

He knit his brows and contracted his lips.

Then he put his mouth to Gabriel's ear.

Don't be so sly, Gabriel.

There are things going on for which you and Mercier are partly responsible.

What do you mean?

Ask Gabriel.

Christine Daie is not the only one who suddenly disappeared tonight.

Oh, nonsense.

There's no nonsense about it.

Perhaps you can tell me why when Mother Jiree came down to the foyer just now, mercier took her by the hand and hurried her away with him.

Really?

Said Gabriel.

I never saw it.

You did see it, Gabriel, for you went with Mercier and Mother Jiree to Mercier's office.

Since then you and Mercier have been seen.

But no one has seen Mother Jiree.

Do you think we've eaten her?

No, but you've locked her up in the office.

And anyone passing the office can hear her yelling o the scoundrels.

O the scoundrels.

At this point of the singular conversation, mercier arrived all out of breath.

There, he said in a gloomy voice it's worse than ever.

I shouted.

It's a serious matter.

Open the door.

It's.

I mercier.

I heard footsteps.

The door opened and Moncharmin appeared.

He was very pale.

He said what do you want?

I answered, Someone has run away with Christine Dale.

What do you think?

He said, and a good job, too.

And he shut the door.

After putting this in my hand, mercier opened his hand.

Remy.

And Gabriel looked.

The safety pin.

Cried Remy.

Strange, strange.

Muttered Gabriel, who could not help shivering.

Suddenly a voice made them all three turn round.

I beg your pardon, gentlemen.

Could you tell me where Christine Dale is?

In spite of the seriousness of the circumstances, the absurdity of the question would have made them roar with laughter if they had not caught sight of a face so sorrow stricken that they were at once seized with pity.

It was the vikaunt.

Raul deshagni.

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