The Persian’s manuscript, Christine Daae’s papers, the statements made to me by the people who used to work under MM. Richard and Moncharmin, by little Meg herself (the worthy Madame Giry, I am sorry to say, is no more) and by Sorelli, who is now living in retirement at Louveciennes: all the documents relating to the existence of the ghost, which I propose to deposit in the archives of the Opera, have been checked and confirmed by a number of important discoveries of which I am justly proud. I have not been able to find the house on the lake, Erik having blocked up all the secret entrances.[12] On the other hand, I have discovered the secret passage of the Communists, the planking of which is falling to pieces in parts, and also the trap–door through which Raoul and the Persian penetrated into the cellars of the opera–house. In the Communists' dungeon, I noticed numbers of initials traced on the walls by the unfortunate people confined in it; and among these were an "R" and a "C." R. C.: Raoul de Chagny. The letters are there to this day.
If the reader will visit the Opera one morning and ask leave to stroll where he pleases, without being accompanied by a stupid guide, let him go to Box Five and knock with his fist or stick on the enormous column that separates this from the stage–box. He will find that the column sounds hollow. After that, do not be astonished by the suggestion that it was occupied by the voice of the ghost: there is room inside the column for two men. If you are surprised that, when the various incidents occurred, no one turned round to look at the column, you must remember that it presented the appearance of solid marble, and that the voice contained in it seemed rather to come from the opposite side, for, as we have seen, the ghost was an expert ventriloquist.
The column was elaborately carved and decorated with the sculptor’s chisel; and I do not despair of one day discovering the ornament that could be raised or lowered at will, so as to admit of the ghost’s mysterious correspondence with Mme. Giry and of his generosity.
However, all these discoveries are nothing, to my mind, compared with that which I was able to make, in the presence of the acting–manager, in the managers' office, within a couple of inches from the desk–chair, and which consisted of a trap–door, the width of a board in the flooring and the length of a man’s fore–arm and no longer; a trap–door that falls back like the lid of a box; a trap–door through which I can see a hand come and dexterously fumble at the pocket of a swallow–tail coat.
That is the way the forty–thousand francs went!… And that also is the way by which, through some trick or other, they were returned.
Speaking about this to the Persian, I said:
"So we may take it, as the forty–thousand francs were returned, that Erik was simply amusing himself with that memorandum–book of his?"
"Don’t you believe it!" he replied. "Erik wanted money. Thinking himself without the pale of humanity, he was restrained by no scruples and he employed his extraordinary gifts of dexterity and imagination, which he had received by way of compensation for his extraordinary uglinesss, to prey upon his fellow–men. His reason for restoring the forty–thousand francs, of his own accord, was that he no longer wanted it. He had relinquished his marriage with Christine Daae. He had relinquished everything above the surface of the earth."
