Are you alone?

Nadir starts at the sound of the voice in his ear. Despite all these years with Erik, he is still nonplussed at such conversations.

"Adele is here."

"Erik?" She looks up from Veronique's and Giselle's drawings that will be presented to Erik later in the day – their proposals for the costumes and sets for the review being planned. The effort of blending unrelated and, often, contradictory songs without a story line has been a challenge, but Adele admires the efforts of both women and believes Erik will be pleased.

"Yes. I think I would prefer he just arrive – take his chances at someone catching him walking through walls and mirrors," Nadir says, putting down his pencil, pushing aside the notes Darius gave to him about his meeting with the Monseigneur.

"That is a thought – startle more people than just your good self," Erik says. "Anything new to report?" He removes his hat as he follows Christine into the Phantom Security office.

"Unfortunately, the priest had nothing much to offer. The church was kept open at all times for those wanting sanctuary, or merely wishing to pray. Rounds were made, generally in conjunction with prayers – their Daily Office it is called. Nothing untoward was reported until the bodies were found, suggesting those leaving the bodies were familiar with the routines of the church."

"Routines are both a blessing and a bane to detectives – are they not, my friend?"

"Something you know nothing about," Nadir grumbles. "Why are you here – you said you did not wish to be involved in this investigation."

"Is this a problem?" Christine asks, her fingers ghost over an oval ruby brooch Adele has pinned to the neckline of her traditional black dress. "Beautiful." Joining Adele on the brown settee, tucking her own blue and green plaid skirt around her, she notices the portfolio on the coffee table in front of her. "Are these the sketches Veronique has been so excited about?"

"Yes – perhaps you would like to sit in on the meeting later – when Erik was expected." Adele hands her some of the drawings.

"I would indeed," Christine leafs through the pages. "These are wonderful. Erik, you are going to be so pleased."

"I am sure I shall be – Veronique has already proven herself to be a wonderful artist."

"My comment meant no offense toward you, Christine, I was not expecting either of you," Nadir says, glaring at Erik. "Adele was planning to leave once Marquand arrived – where is everyone to sit?"

"Sit? Are there no other chairs in this entire building?" Erik cocks his head toward Nadir, raising an eyebrow at Adele.

She shrugs and shakes her head.

"Why so upset, my friend?" Erik frowns. "Christine discovered something that may relate to the case – at least my interest in the case," Erik explains. "That is why we are here – I wanted both you and Adele to know – before I spoke to Comte Phillippe…and the Vicomte."

Noticing the large black book Erik carries, Nadir asks, "Something in your family Bible involves the Chagnys?"

"Cousins would be my guess?" Adele says. "Would you agree, Nadir?"

"Yes, most likely, and not very distant," he smirks.

"A person would have to be blind not to see physical resemblances between you and Phillippe. I suspect had you been blessed with a normal face, the similitude would be more apparent – even so, one can see it in the lines of your faces and your physiques, especially now that you have put on some weight."

"Why did you never say anything to me?" Erik complains, dropping the Bible on the desk.

"To what purpose – many people share similar traits," she retorts. "Your personalities are alike as well, if anyone cares to notice."

"But Raoul…" Christine wrinkles her nose. "Do you think he looks like Erik?"

"Vaguely, but not so defined – Raoul is rounder, not so chiseled. He is a softer, weaker version of Phillippe."

"And, thus, even more so of Erik," Christine giggles, covering her mouth with her hand – her face flushing pink.

Adele joins in her laughter.

Nadir clears his throat. "What is it about women that everything becomes about…romance?"

Adele harrumphs. "Men have another word for it – less socially acceptable. Do not pretend women are not discussed in such a manner by men – probably more so, I would venture."

"Enough," Erik says, smothering the smile forming on his lips with the back of his hand. "So you believe Comte Phillippe is aware of this."

"On one level or another," Nadir says. "I am certain he had you investigated quite thoroughly once you revealed you actually had a name. You will have to ask him how much or how little he knows." He rises to pour himself another cup of tea. Holding up the pot to Christine, "Tea?"

"Please," she says.

"I shall have some as well," Erik says, sitting down at the desk, opening the book. "Claudine, etc., etc., de Chagny – no title – was married to Alexandre, etc., etc., Saint-Rien. They had a male child – Charles." Accentuating the point by pressing his finger directly on the entry. "She was the woman my mother's father had the affair with, I presume."

A light knock on the door sounds.

"Entre!" Nadir calls out.

Phillippe and Raoul enter the room – dressed in almost identical gray morning coats and top hats. Phillippe's manner is as usual – contained and elegant. Raoul's face bears the signs of grief – having aged years in a few days. Dark circles beneath his eyes, complexion sallow, the normal high color dulled.

With unspoken consent, despite the jocularity of their earlier conversation, the solemnity of the brothers' demeanor precludes any more humor from the two couples.

"M. Khan, Mme. Giry – M. and Mme. Saint-Rein, good morning," Phillippe says.

Raoul nods to each of them, holding Christine in his gaze for a moment before taking a seat on the opposite settee to where she and Adele are seated. He removes his hat and places it on the end table next to him. Sitting erect, hands folded on his lap, he stares at a point on the wall above her head.

"I was under the impression you would not be present for this meeting," Phillippe continues, looking around for a place to seat himself.

"May I speak with you in private, M. le Comte?" Erik asks, rising from his chair.

"But of course." An eyebrow quirks at the Bible sitting on the desk. Both eyebrows raise when Erik lifts the book and carries it to the door.

"May we use your office, Adele?" Erik asks.

"Certainly." She removes a key from her pocket and offers it to him.

"Erik?" Christine starts to rise from the sofa.

"Not now – if that is acceptable to you," Erik says, his eyes soft in a plea.

Relaxing back into the settee, she nods.

Raoul, observing the exchange, says, "Is there something I need to know?"

"In time, my brother," Phillippe says.

Erik lets them into Adele's office, turning on the desk lamp, adding to the light coming in from the single window. He sets the Bible down on her desk next to the light.

"So you have discovered our connection," Phillippe says, walking to the desk and lifting the cover of the Bible with a long finger, riffling the pages to the family history entries. "Where?" He steps back.

Erik points out the names.

"Grand-pere's sister – grand-tante Claudine," he says. "May I sit?" he asks, indicating the chaise, removing his hat.

"Of course." Erik sits at Adele's desk. "How long have you known?"

"When all the business occurred with Raoul and I recognized the name immediately. In tracing it back to Rouen, no record of an Erik Saint-Rien could be found. I assumed you were related in some way to her husband, but was not certain we had any blood connection."

"Charles Saint-Rien was my father."

"Ah, their son."

"Charles was the son of your great aunt and my mother's father. Her marriage to Alexandre was barren, under French law he accepted Charles as his to protect Claudine's – and his name. All of this was disclosed in a letter to my mother after his death, my father never knew – he died before I was born. My grandfather passed shortly after."

"Your mother must have been destroyed by those losses."

Erik's back stiffens, the gold eyes darken.

Phillippe sits back into the chaise, one arm folded across him, the other raised, tapping his forefinger against his lips, his eyes focused on the past. "Yes. I do remember chatter about a scandal of some sort—I was too young to have much interest. There may have been some sort shunning, because I do not recall any interaction between our families. I may have met your father, but have no recollection of it."

When he turns to face Erik, the gray eyes narrow – taking in the mask and what he can see of the deformed lips that are not entirely hidden, his eyes widen. "I see. Your parents were siblings?"

Erik nods. "Half-siblings – but, yes, brother and sister."

"The deformity?"

"Possibly that and other circumstances."

"So that is why your birth was not well documented," Phillippe's tone calm and controlled, continuing to take Erik's measure.

"The priest who attended my birth kept the records, including the aforementioned letter – I received those upon my mother's passing – along with the Bible."

"She blamed you and cast you out?"

"In a sense – I was kept inside, though – hidden from view. I ultimately ran away – but that is not the issue."

"I would be interested in knowing more of your life, but that is up to you – what you might wish to disclose – I suspect you have quite a story to tell." Closing the Bible, he asks, "What is it, then, you wish from me?"

"Nothing but consent. This missing baby is my blood and I wanted you to know that whatever differences I may have had with Raoul, I will do everything within my power to find the boy."

"Yes, you would do that," Phillippe says, rising from the sofa. "Thank you, I was hoping you would change your mind. I shall inform Raoul of these new circumstances – I doubt he will see the irony – some things cannot be taught."

Erik allows a laugh at the gesture of humor, joining Phillippe at the door.

"Mme. Christine?"

"She discovered the entry. We both found it amusing – ironic, as you said. She also wishes to be of service."

"Remarkable woman. We have crossed swords."

"So I understand."

Marquand rises from Erik's chair behind the partners' desk. "Le Comte, M. Saint-Rien – I apologize, I was informed you would not be present for the meeting." He moves away from the desk, looking at a loss.

Motioning the Inspector keep his seat, Erik says, "Stay there – this is fine." Sitting next to Christine, he sets the Bible down on the coffee table.

Her eyes find his and he nods. Turning to Phillippe, she smiles.

Adele rises. "I shall be leaving now. Christine?"

"Not yet – I will be along in a bit," she says, handing Adele the drawings.

Adele makes a moue, glancing at Nadir, who shrugs, she takes her leave.

Awaiting direction from Inspector Marquand, Darius stands behind Nadir's chair, both men solemn in their astrakhan hats. Raoul sits as if cast in stone, much the same as when Erik and Phillippe left the room. Phillippe pulls the guest chair to the door facing it toward the others in the room.

Everyone settled, Marquand reviews the set of papers – Dr. Gerard's medical report, Marie-Corrinne's diary, the list of addresses and the financial agreement between the dead woman and Raoul.

"I would ask that Mme. Saint-Rien not see the diary," Raoul says, his blue eyes shift from the blank wall to hers.

Lowering her head, breaking the contact, she nods. Erik moves the booklet to one side and instead shows her the single page of addresses.

She touches his hand, pointing to an address. He nods. "One of these addresses belongs to Dr. Gerard – he is our doctor. This is where we saw Mlle. Arnault with her companion the day of her death."

"You are quite correct, Dr. Gerard's address was familiar to us because of his work with the police. We were able to check out all of the addresses as to ownership – each of the five is a doctor's office. These doctors all practice obstetrics as well as a general practice – which is a rather new situation," Marquand informs them. "We need to interview each of these doctors. Gerard had an agreement with Dr. Perdue, but never saw – simply allowed him to use his office one day a week, based on the word of an associate at Maternite de Paris*.

It was understood that Perdue provided free services to the women who came to see him – addressing their needs and, in many instances, finding homes for the infants women wished to give up for adoption."

"So, he was not some evil opportunist – not a murderer, at all?" Christine says.

"At this point, Madame, we do not know who or what he is or was. He is missing – not seen or heard from at the residence address Dr. Gerard provided to us," the Inspector says. "The only witness we have to his existence right now is yours and M. Saint-Rien's testimony that Mlle. Arnault knew him and asked for him at Dr. Gerard's office – and the initials GP in her diary: German Perdue."

"Dr. Gerard's nurse – did she not know him?" Erik asks.

"She only confirms what you said – Mlle. Arnault insisted on seeing Dr. Perdue."

"As for the interviews with the other doctors, I shall be able to assist with that, Inspector, if you wish," Darius says. "Five interviews can be handled quite easily, I would think. The doctor at the maternity hospital will involve more time as the referring person – but I believe this can be accomplished by tomorrow." Moving to Nadir's side, he addresses the daroga. "If that is acceptable to you, M. Khan."

"That sounds satisfactory. The list is not long and you are well-trained – take Henri with you." His chest puffs out, looking at the young man he rescued from his life as a eunuch in a Persian harem. To Inspector Marquand he says, "Our business is keeping criminals out – thus giving us the ability to know who the criminals are."

"Perfect," Marquand says.

"My butler, Francois advised that his daughter, our maid, Meybel, was to be interviewed by another of your people, M. Khan," Phillippe says. "Giselle Beauchamp?"

"Yes…"

"Meybel?" Christine says, bouncing in her seat. "I know Meybel, she attended my needs when I was…a guest at your home, Raoul."

"This would appear to be quite helpful," Marquand says.

Erik raises his hand. "That is well and good, my dear, but…"

Shifting herself to address him head on, her mouth a firm line, she says, "I know her and she knows me – she would be comfortable talking to me – more so than a stranger – woman or not. The Inspector agrees."

The other pairs of eyes find elsewhere to focus their attention.

Taking her hand, Erik closes his eyes, and nods. "Could we manage to arrange this so that my wife's identity is not compromised? She was seen by this Mme. Laurance, however briefly," Erik says to Marquand.

"Of course."

Squeezing Christine's hand, and looking directly into her eyes, he says, "I should also like Giselle to be with you. Two of you may be able to elicit more information than just one. She is likely to still be frightened and fearful of speaking and may need some coaxing – Giselle could do that when you might wish to be sympathetic."

"I am agreeable to Giselle's presence," Christine says. "Thank you. The support will be welcome."

Phillippe breaks his neutral posture with a small smile.

As if sensing his newfound cousin's mood, Erik glances at the count, acknowledging the grin with one of his own.

"There will be much coming and going from the house with police presence – I do not see any problem with bringing the two women in by coach – hiding them from view – taking them to the rear of the house – leaving in the same manner." Marquand says.

"Bien," Erik says. "Tomorrow morning – Giselle will come to work as is usual – I think it best if both women exit from the stage entrance – there will be crew around for cover."

"Excellent."

Christine enters Adele's office – Inspector Marquand on her heels.

Giselle and Veronique jump up from their seats on the royal blue chaise. Adele remains seated at her desk. "Inspector – to what do we own this honor?"

Christine waves him follow her in. "Inspector Marquand wishes to arrange the time for Giselle and me to be gathered for an interview with Meybel – Marie-Corrinne's maid."

"M. Khan spoke of that – you will be there Mme. Saint-Rien?" Giselle asks, taking her seat, pulling Veronique down next to her.

"Christine. Please."

"It would seem that Mme. Saint-Rien…Christine is acquainted with Meybel. We believe her presence will make the young woman feel more secure, enabling her to remember more than she might with a stranger."

Adele raises her eyebrows – exchanging a look with Christine. "So you are agreeable with re-visiting that time?"

"Yes. If it will help us to find the baby. It was my suggestion." Recognizing all the eyes that are on her – in response to Adele's question, Christine sighs deeply before she says, "Before I married Erik, Raoul de Chagny and I were engaged for a short while. During that time, I lived at the de Chagny home and Meybel served as my maid. We became friends – neither of us being from the social class of my hosts and her employers – she was a comfort to me."

"I see," says Inspector Marquand. "This period would seem to encompass the dates included in the diary – am I correct?"

Christine nods.

"Perhaps I can persuade the young Vicomte that your review of the diary would be helpful," Marquand says. "While I would prefer his consent, it is not necessary."

"Whatever you advise, Inspector – I do not wish to cause him any more discomfort than he is already experiencing."

"He need not know. I shall see you and Mlle. Beauchamp tomorrow," he says bringing Giselle into the conversation.

Adele rises from her chair behind the desk and walks over to the Inspector – guiding him to the door. "Nine would be an excellent time, I should think." Looking to Giselle and Christine for their approval.

Both women nod.

"Nine is it, then. A carriage shall meet you at the stage door – an officer will give you his name – Jean Fremed – and a note from me. Like this," he says, handing Christine his calling card after writing a note on the back, which she pockets. "I shall write the same thing on his card. Do not go with anyone who does not offer both pieces of information," he says. "I will see you at the de Chagny residence," he says, doffing his hat and taking his exit.

Adele returns to her desk and motions for Christine to sit in her guest chair.

The three young women with their blue, brown and green eyes wait for their instructions from their dour-faced Madame Giry.

Adele bursts out laughing, "You look like rabbits facing a hungry wolf."

"There was always gossip about M. Christine and le Vicomte…and M. Erik – the Opera Ghost…" Veronique says.

"It was said the…Opera Ghost killed Joseph Buquet and caused the chandelier to fall – that the Vicomte wanted to capture and kill him, but he escaped – taking Christine with him," Giselle adds, glancing at Christine.

"Is that the man you know? The man who has admired and supported you?" Christine asks her.

Giselle's face reddens – she shakes her head. "Those are just stories I heard."

"I see some of the old tales are still being spread – despite the corrections and people actually knowing Erik as he is now," Adele grumbles. "May I offer some explanation, Christine?"

"If it will ease their minds, I see no problem." Looking in front of her, she folds her hands on her lap – mouth a flat line, face expressionless.

Standing up, her staff in hand, Adele begins her tale – pacing the small space. "Christine and Raoul were friends as children, but lost touch. He became a patron of the Opera the same night she made her debut in HANNIBAL and was smitten. Erik, was teaching Christine voice and fell in love with her. He feared Raoul's attentions to Christine would have her leave him, so abducted her for a time. He brought her back after a few weeks – neither of them has ever revealed what happened during that time to anyone." Heavily drawn eyebrows rise as she glances at Christine who continues to show no emotion.

"The opera was closed for a time, after the fall of the chandelier – which, incidentally, was sabotaged by Buquet – before his fatal accidental. That is when Christine resided at the de Chagny house and they became engaged. When Erik's opera was being produced, a certain amount of… chaos happened during the performance. Erik and Raoul had an…argument. Christine realized that it was Erik she loved and broke off the engagement with Raoul," Adele says, taking a deep breath after the recitation, plopping into her chair. "I believe that sums it up."

"Sounds like a book or a play," Veronique says. "I heard talk from those who worked here at the time of these events – my job as a cleaner did not allow me much access to gossip. While it matters not to me, I am pleased to know that all was resolved for yours and M. Erik's happiness."

Christine smiles. "Thank you, Veronique."

"You are the dearest person, Veronique." Rolling her eyes, Giselle says, "I suspect there is more to the story – judging from the gossip, but, I, too, am pleased at the end result because I do know how kind both you and M. Erik are." She walks to the armoire, helping herself to another cup of tea.

"Giselle!" Adele exclaims, rising to her feet.

Christine holds up her hand. "Such as it is, Adele's disclosure is true. What she has not said – or does not know – is of no one's concern beyond my husband and myself. Her intent was simply an attempt to provide you background regarding my connection to the de Chagnys – to salve your curiosity," Christine says. "Believe what you will – it matters naught to me. The Opera House gossips can be quite cruel – as you may soon discover."

"Touche," Adele says.

Giselle lowers her eyes in response to the comments of Christine and Adele, nodding in concession to the truth of Christine's words – talk has already reached her about Phillippe. "You are correct. I apologize."

"Who was the first, do you think?"

"Oh, La Sorelli, of course."

"Are you certain?"

"That young baron has been lurking about for some time – now she allows him into her dressing room."

"But I saw le Comte drinking champagne with the carpenter girl."

"She took a dress from wardrobe."

"I suspect he will be buying her some fancy drawers soon enough."

"Annette saw them at the cabaret."

"I wish he would notice me."

"Maybe you should learn to build scenery."

"Start with a bed."

"So we are to go to their home tomorrow – the de Chagny house?" Giselle continues, covering the grin threatening to break across her face.

Softening her own lips, Christine says, "Yes, Erik thought it best the two of us be with Meybel – believing we might balance one another."

"I am pleased he has such faith in my abilities for detection." Returning to her seat, Giselle picks up the new sketches she brought with her and hands them to Adele. "I hope he feels the same about my design skills."

"Erik is quite adept at judging people, although we all make mistakes on occasion," Adele says, directing a pointed look at Giselle, as she receives the sketches.

"I suspect his perception will continue to prove correct," Christine says, while she and Veronique examine the new drawings, oohing and aahing at Giselle's recent additions to the portfolio. "These seem to address some of the issues we have with the song transitions."

The talk of engagements and chaos – old and new love affairs are swept aside as the women get caught up in discussing each of their visions for the new production.

Phillippe, Raoul and Darius take their leave, following Marquand and Christine from the Security Office. Erik and Nadir both relax into their seats, heads resting against wool and leather, respectively.

"So, my friend, what are your ideas for the two of us – the others all having been dispatched to their assignments – including your lovely wife?" Nadir asks, sitting forward, elbows on the desk. He picks up his ever-present pencil, tapping it on the pad in front of him. The sheaf of papers from Inspector Marquand, along with Dr. Gerard's medical report, his own earlier notes and minutes of this meeting are stacked to one side – demanding his review once he is alone.

"You shall deal with those papers calling out to your fine mind. I shall watch the watchers once I discover where they lurk. My first visit will be to Marie-Corrinne's apartment tonight," Erik stands up, stretching his arms and legs. "These couches are too short, I have a crick in my back."

"You are taller than many, Erik – the sofas are made for those of average height," Nadir responds. "Do you think the apartment is being watched?"

"Marquand believes so – he still has an officer stationed inside the flat. I shall be doing reconnaissance outside – which is more likely to reap rewards."

Nadir shuffles the papers again. "How did the meeting go with le Comte?"

"As a child, he was vaguely aware of the scandal, such as it was, with his great aunt, but not very interested. Unsure, but doubtful that he ever met my father. After investigating me – as you correctly surmised – he found nothing more than a name connection to her husband."

He finds his pencil and sets it next to his writing pad. "You showed him the Bible?"

"Yes, after some processing, he was able to figure things out."

The papers are moved to the other side of his desk. "Did you tell him anything about your life?"

"Not really – he asked if I was cast out. I told him the opposite was true – that I ran away." Erik strides to the armoire to pour himself a drink. "Brandy?"

"No – even the smallest amount of liquor is a distraction for me – with all this." He waves his hand over the paperwork.

Erik pours the brandy back into the carafe. "You are correct. Shall I make fresh tea?"

"That would be welcome. Thank you." His jacket is straightened, unbuttoned – then rebuttoned.

"He said he was interested in knowing more, but would respect my wishes," Erik tells him, pouring water in the kettle from a pitcher – setting it on the gas-fired hot plate. "Do you mind if I add new leaves to these, or would you prefer fresh?"

"Mix them, it is fine." Nadir swivels his chair to watch Erik at his homely ministrations. "You have real family now," he announces.

"I like Phillippe and I am glad I did not kill Raoul," Erik chuckles. "I told him I wished to find this child because he was my blood. That is the importance."

"The merest chance that a child of my kinship risks being harmed is unconscionable to me. I think of my baby Christine carries – I think about your Reza." Tears fill Erik's eyes. He brushes them away with a napkin, as best he can, before putting the fresh cup of tea in front of Nadir – carrying his own cup to his side of the desk, facing the man who, for the longest period of time, was the only person in the world who cared about him. "So, yes it is important, but not the most important. You are my family, daroga – the person I love most in the world with the exception of my Christine. I would not know how to be with her, such as I am, were it not for you."

Nadir bobs his head before taking a sip of his tea, "I like it mixed – a stronger brew."

"Good, I am happy you like it."

They sit for a moment in silence.

"I must go to the meeting with our talented ladies," Erik says, rising from his chair.

"Perhaps Christine should come home with Adele and myself? Or perhaps we might await you here – that would be easier for her, I think – being close to home."

"Thank you – I will let them know."

"Be careful."

"I cannot be otherwise – there is too much in my life now. Still I can travel places others cannot," he says, opening his desk drawer to pull out a black cloth mask that covers his entire face. He folds and pockets it.

"You have your lasso?"

"Always – although I do not plan to use it – any sort of capture would prove fruitless, I must find their lair," he laughs. "I will see where that leads – I doubt to the child, though. One step at a time."

"Your arm?"

"The right is sore – not my left, thankfully. I shall be fine and will collect Christine when this small mission is complete."

"Madame Giry, I believe you will agree we need to find a new bookkeeper," Erik says.

Veronique's face falls. "Did I make an error with the receipts? Oh, please, I cannot lose this job." She turns to Christine, then Giselle, and finally to Adele – who starts laughing.

"We wish to employ you full time as a designer – you will not have time to do your administrative work," Adele tells her. "Much as I hate to lose you – I cannot keep you from your art."

Christine is the first to rise from her seat to hug the young mother, who was one of M. Robert's victims, mistaking Veronique for Christine not so long ago. "Your gowns are simply stunning. I cannot wait to wear them. Thank you for accommodating the baby's growth."

"I suspect that we shall also see Mlle. Beauchamp taking on a role other than carpenter," Erik adds. "M. Khan will be most upset at losing you with the Security business."

"Must I lose that job? I love it…and the design. I never thought my drafting could be a career – my father would be so proud."

"I am certain we can work something out," Adele says. "It is getting late – the day has flown by and I suspect young Andre will be wanting his dinner."

"True. He is likely napping in his cubby," Veronique says, gathering up the sketches. "Thank you, both."

"Thank you," Giselle adds. Turning to Christine, she says, "I shall see you in the morning, then?"

"Yes, it will be good to see Meybel again – I hope we can bring her some peace."

The two women leave, smiling and chattering about their successful meeting.

Christine takes Erik's hand, pulling him up from the chaise, "If it is acceptable to you, Madame, shall we rouse Nadir and have an early supper before going home?"

Wrapping his arms around her, Erik kisses her forehead, breathing in the scent of gardenias, the fragrance he chose for her. Looking over her head to Adele. "I must attend to some business – dealing with the investigation now – as it is getting dark. I shall return here when I am finished. Would you be so kind as to keep Christine company until then?"

Adele nods. "Of course."

"What! No!"

Pulling her closer to him, he says, "This is something only I can do, my dear."

Adele rises from her desk. "I shall be in the Security Office." She leaves, closing the door softly behind her.

Erik draws Christine to the chaise.

"You plan to track whomever is watching Marie-Corrine's apartment?"

Erik sighs and nods. "Just locating them – seeing what they look like and hopefully where they live. If there are two, they are likely taking shifts. I must go now before it is completely dark, to identify whoever is there and follow him when he leaves."

"What if they spot you?"

"Unlikely, but I can always remove my mask," he snorts.

"That is not funny, Erik."

"No, but it is true."

"What if you find the baby there?"

"Then I will take him," he responds. "That is unlikely, however. He is being suckled by a nourrice – fed, but not loved – somewhere other than where these hoodlums roost. This is part of the business our Dr. Perdue created for himself, I suspect – complete maternal care. The deaths were very possibly accidents. That is not for me to determine. My task is to find the child. This is the first step."

Falling to his knees in front of her, he takes her hands and kisses them.

"This excites you, though, does it not?" She asks, pulling their joined hands to her heart. "Part of you is still wild - I see the excitement in your eyes – your fervor." Her smile bittersweet. "This is where your passion comes from when we love, when you create your music." Sighing deeply, she says, "I cannot deprive you of this search, much as I wish I could." Bending to kiss him full on the mouth, their lips clinging, even as she releases him. "Be safe."

Rising, taking his hat and cape from the coat rack, putting them on as he walks behind his desk to open the hidden door to the tunnels. "I shall return as quickly as I can – you must get your rest." With that he is gone.

The shadows of dusk provide better disguise than full darkness – colors fade to gray – illusion reigns. Preferring the street to the sewers, his walk to Rue St. Honore is brisk and invigorating. The hunt feeds a hunger – Christine knows him well – he thumbs the gold ring that was once her father's. Despite the joy that is his life now – she understands he still needs to touch danger – if only in this simple exercise.

The rush was there in the confrontation with M. Robert – first the planning – then coming so close to dying – yet surviving – the ache in his right shoulder a reminder of that day – was it just a week ago?

Luck is with him – a young man – rough-looking – stands in the doorway of a shop closed for the day – out of place on this modest, yet elegant, street. Silly choice when a cafe is next door with tables and chairs, offering anonymity within the small contingent of customers. Possibly without funds; probably believing he is hidden – he stares at Marie-Corrine's building – another give-away. He could garrote him – hardly missing a beat. No one would even notice. But the fidgeting creature was the guide to, what Erik hoped would be, the next step in finding the baby – Raoul's baby – his cousin's baby – his cousin.

Folding himself into the darkness of a small alleyway, he waits.

A/N *Maternité de Paris, Port-Royal

The Maternité de Paris, Port-Royal was the "lying-in" hospital for the poor women of Paris. The obstetrician Stéphane Tarnier pioneered use of incubators for premature infants at the Maternité at the end of the 19th century. He trained many other important French obstetricians, some of which (such as Auvard and Budin) went on to make important contributions to the care of newborns.

"It is impossible to describe the genesis of advanced newborn care without talking about the convent of Port Royal, a maternity and midwife school. At the end of the 19th century, new concepts of maternal and neonatal care emerged from the facility. Medical knowledge spread rapidly across Europe, and allowed the diffusion of new technology. Medicine entered a scientific era, which ultimately gave new directions to perinatal health care.

"The Port Royal convent, close to the Luxembourg Garden in Paris in 1625, was transformed into a prison during the French Revolution (also called Prison de La Bourbe and Port-Libre). In 1814, the prison was converted into a maternity, and was fully completed in 1818.

"The Paris School of Midwives moved in 1794 from the Hotel Dieu, close to the church of Notre Dame where it had been located since 1610, to two different specialized locations. One taught the art of delivery and was located at the Oratoire rue d'Enfer; the other, dedicated to post-partum and breastfeeding, moved to the ex-prison of La Bourbe. From there, it moved again to the Port Royal Maternity in 1814."