Nadir was paralysed with shock. Wasn't that the voice of a man coming from the sitting room? Yes, it was. And that other voice was Erik's, conversing with the first voice in. . . By Allah! In civil tones! He jumped when a roar resounded in his ears.
"Monsieur!"
He stared at the maid. She stood sternly in front of him.
"I said, may I take your coat?"
Nadir shrugged out of his coat while he mumbled his apologies, and when he had gathered enough strength on his knees he made his way to the sitting room.
"Ah! There you are," exclaimed Erik, almost jovially. "Monsieur Menand, may I introduce you to my dearest friend, Nadir Kahn?"
Automatically, Nadir extended his hand and shook the hand of a young, stalwart man who was standing by the couch.
"Louis Menand," said the man with a nod. "Pleased to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Monsieur."
Nadir was thankful his years as a courtier had trained his mouth to proffer the proper polite remarks while his brain was occupied with a thousand questions.
"Monsieur Menand is the architect who designed the building across the street. He also supervised the works," Erik explained as if it had been the most natural thing for him to introduce acquaintances of his to one another. "Monsieur Kahn was the chief of police for the Shah-in-Shah in Persia. He's now retired. He is a superb chess player, as well. You should play against him one of these days."
Despite all his training to remain impassive at the most unexpected and shocking situations, Nadir's jaw dropped.
"I will be pleased, if you would like to waste your time playing against a mere beginner, Monsieur Kahn," said the architect.
"The pleasure will be mine," answered Nadir, when he regained the use of his facial muscles.
"I was just on my way out, Monsieur Kahn. I'm sorry I cannot stay any longer. Perhaps we will have the chance to speak another day?"
"I'm sure we will."
"Monsieur Devaux, Monsieur Kahn," the young architect bowed formally towards Erik, shook Nadir's hand once again and left the living room.
Nadir stood where he was, staring at Erik, for the first time noticing the plaid blanket and the slippers in the semidarkness of the room. He heard how the architect said good-bye to Françoise and how she closed the door behind him. Erik sprang from his chair with a laugh.
"Don't gawk at me, Daroga," he said. "You, after all, were the one who taught me that to make someone believe one is ill one has to play the part well. Where are my shoes, Françoise?"
"Who. . . Who was that, Erik?" stuttered Nadir.
"I told you, Nadir," said Erik with an exaggerated sigh.
Clearly, he was enjoying the Persian's bafflement.
"He's the architect who made the building on the other side of the street. Surely you had noticed there was a construction underway in your many comings and goings."
"But. . . But what. . .?"
"He found himself in a predicament and I helped him out. That's how we came to meet, if that's what you're asking," Erik interrupted, as he gave Françoise the blanket and got his shoes.
He sat back on his armchair to put them on, after he had thrown the couple of pillows that were on it on the couch.
"And no, I didn't invite him to come," he added with a smirk. "But he is quite a stubborn fellow. It was impossible to turn him down."
"But. . . Isn't he. . . Isn't it risky to have him here?"
Erik regarded Nadir for a little while, his mirth apparently vanished. He shrugged.
"He hasn't heard about what happened at the Opéra Populaire. And besides, he believes this is my face," he pointed at the leather mask Nadir had commissioned for him some years ago.
"He thinks I had a stroke. You should congratulate the man who made it," Erik's voice held a tinge of sarcasm. "Any more questions, Daroga?"
Nadir nodded. Erik's face tightened.
"Where's Gracie?" Nadir asked as he took a small paper bag out of his pocket.
The visible corner of Erik's mouth quirked upward in a dry smile.
Author's notes: Hi, guys! Thanks for the comments for chapter 23! I'm happy to know you enjoyed Erik's little charade. A short chapter, this time. The next one will be longer. Chibi: Gracie's around ten now... Françoise's been working for Erik about a year.
