A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, they are always very much appreciated. No Erik or Christine in this character but I feel it's a pretty good chapter for plot development. I liked writing this chapter... Thank you again for the reviews.

Chapter 17- Accusations.

It seemed to take Robert hours to get to Scotland Yard, the journey had not been helped by the vicious wind and he was tired. He stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at the grey building, the sign was obvious and he watched officers of the law wander in and out with no concern for him. He debated whether or not this was a good idea, after all the man had actually done nothing to him but he decided that having a fugitive living under his roof was not something that attracted guests and began to climb the steps. Several men walked past him, one had nearly knocked him off his feet but hadn't noticed and Robert pushed open the door and stepped into the entrance hall.

The room was smaller than he had expected it to be and there were only a few doors from the room. Ahead of him was a large desk and an even larger man in uniform standing behind it, looking at him as if he had crawled from the marshes. Robert stood up straight and coughed deeply, preparing himself to speak to the officer. He strode forward and forced a smile but the officer simply stared, his eyes were cold as if he had been in the business long enough to judge someone by the way they looked.

'Can I help you, sir?' He asked with no real interest and Robert nodded informing the officer that he needed to report a crime of sorts and would like to speak to someone senior. This, however, didn't seem to go down too well with the man behind the desk and he responded with a scowl before whispering to a younger man. The younger man wandered off and returned some moments later with a man in a sharp suit who smiled at Robert and motioned for him to follow.

They walked down many corridors and up one stair case to a small room at the end of a hallway. He watched the man in the suit walk in and sit down behind an old looking desk, Robert followed him in and stood just inside the door, his nervousness growing considerably.

'Close the door behind you Mr...?' The man said.

'Robert Baker,' He said and turned to ease the door shut.

'Okay, Mr Baker,' said the man gesturing for Robert to take a seat. 'I am detective Sanders. How can I help you, sir?'

Robert sat in the opposite seat which was hard and uncomfortable and he shifted several times to find a position he was even remotely satisfied with.

'I own a house… I let people rent rooms…' He began and the detective cut him off with a wave of his hand.

'Have you been burgled?' He asked and stared at Robert, who swallowed hard.

'No sir.' Robert replied. 'I have a man staying with me. He bought a dead body back last night. A woman, I think.'

Suddenly the detectives eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, intrigued and finally interested in what he had to say. Robert looked at him and leant forward slightly, almost feeling the need to be secretive about the information.

'Indeed...,' Detective Sanders said, eyebrows arched in surprise. 'Did you see the body?'

'Well, I saw him carry a woman into the house… early hours this morning… she wasn't moving…'

'She wasn't moving?' said the police man exasperated. 'You didn't get close?'

'No sir, I was afraid.' Robert replied.

'So how do you know she was dead and he was simply not bringing back a guest of his own? Perhaps she was ill?'

'I think she was dead.'

'You think?' said the detective. 'You came here to tell me that you think you saw a man carrying what you think was a woman that you think was possibly, maybe, dead?' The detective rolled his eyes and called in a colleague to listen to Robert's tale. 'Tell me Mr. Baker, if he had killed someone why would he not simply leave the body where it was? Why would he take it back with him? When he could have been caught with it?'

'He's a murderer;' cried Robert. And the two detectives sat staring at him.

'How do you know?' said Detective Sanders.

'Because he had killed people before!' Replied Robert, now adamant and deeply offended that these men were obviously not taking him at all seriously. The second detective nodded patronisingly.

'He did, huh?' He said.

'Yes, in Paris.' Robert said and as the anger grew inside him he struggled to maintain his composure. 'He is a wanted man. He wore a mask.'

The two detectives looked at each other and Sanders blinked in disbelief before returning his glare back to Robert, who refused to look sheepish.

'Wore a mask indeed!' said the second detective.

'Tell me sir, is that whiskey I smell on your breath?' asked Sanders attempting to keep his voice civil.

'It is.' Said Robert, 'But I am perfectly sober and I met him whilst I was sober. He wore a mask. He is the Phantom of the Opera. Ask the French police! They have been after him for years!'

'Good Lord man!' Yelled detective Sanders standing up in such a way it may Robert jump to his feet as well. He noticed that the detectives face had turned a very peculiar shade of red and realised that perhaps he should have heeded his instinct to let things lie as they were. 'Get out of my office and stop wasting my time! A ghost, I ask you. Are you sure he wasn't with Long John Silver? Perhaps King Henry the first was there also?' The detective rolled his eyes. 'Go on, before I have you sectioned!'

'Sleep it off,' Shrugged the other detective nonchalantly as he held the door open for Robert to leave. 'I trust you remember the way out?'

Robert simply nodded embarrassed and with his eyes firmly focused on the floor made his way out of the building. When he stepped outside he had the thought that maybe things hadn't gone so badly after all. The masked man was supposed to be leaving soon enough and had the detectives taken him seriously maybe that would have put him in more danger. Perhaps he was drunk he thought as he trudged down the street, kicking up bricks as he walked. He would just avoid the man and hope that he didn't leave the dead body in his room.