Chapter Five: The Case
"Did you two solve your problem?" Dr. Watson asked when we reentered the sitting room.
I shook my head, in attempt to brush away my fears. "No, but I'm not worried about it. It'll get solved eventually. So Mr. Holmes, are you going to tell me about this investigation?" I asked, feeling more comfortable dealing with anything that didn't have to do with my home. I flopped down on the sofa across from the great detective and grinned at him. My smile was greeted by a look of indifference.
He cleared his throat and lit an oily black pipe. "Before I divulge any information to you," Holmes said puffing on his pipe, "you must promise me that you will use the utmost discretion. Not one word of what I am about to tell is to leave this room. Is that understood?"
"I promise that we won't say anything," I said quickly.
Holmes's grey eyes rested on Becky as he waited for her to answer.
"I promise," she muttered.
Once he seemed satisfied that he could trust us, he sunk down in his chair, closed his eyes and steepled his fingers. "Several days ago a man entered my sitting room. He was of medium height and strong build with a high forehead and cold blue eyes. Although his appearance was disheveled, his brown hair, which was beginning to grey, was wind-swept and his clothing, made of the best material was thoroughly wrinkled, he carried himself with an air of an aristocrat.
'I immediately deduced that he was a count of a wealthy family in France. I spoke my deductions and he seemed surprised, although he did not care how I arrived at my conclusions.
'"Vous devez être Sherlock Holmes,' he said in French. His voice was gentle and cultured.
'Cela est mon monsieur de nom. Parlez-vous anglais?'
He told me that he spoke English, although not well and the rest of the interview was conducted in my native tongue. After the usual pleasantries, the man introduced himself to me as Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny. His name was not unknown to me. His family is one of the oldest and most distinguished families in all of France. He said his problem was of the most important nature and that it needed my immediate attention.
His problem was trivial and was hardly criminal. I would not have accepted it, if some of the details of his account did not catch my interest.
Le Comte de Chagny has a younger brother Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny. This young viscount is a sailor and has recently returned from a voyage. Philippe decided to take his brother to the opera Faust, which was playing at l'opera Garnier.
During Faust, it seems that Raoul noticed a very young woman in the chorus. Philippe was thoroughly overjoyed that his brother was finally taking notice of the fairer sex and after the opera took his brother backstage to meet the young woman. Since the count had other business to attend to in the opera house, he left his brother alone at the dressing room of the chorus girl.
When the count returned to the dressing room, he was chagrined to see his brother extremely upset. Asking what was the matter; Raoul explained that Mademoiselle Christine Daaé, the chorus girl, took ill after the performance and the doctor attending to her insisted that Raoul leave the room."
"A very sensible thing for the doctor to do," Watson interrupted.
Holmes glared at his friend and continued with his narrative. "Raoul decided to wait in the corridor until Mademoiselle Daaé left. When the doctor finally exited the room, Raoul decided to enter. He had his hand on the door knob but hesitated when he heard two voices emanating from the dressing room.
The impetuous youth decided to eavesdrop on the conversation which ran thus:
A male's voice: 'Christine you must love me. You do love me don't you?'
Mademoiselle Daaé: 'I sing only for you! How can you ask such a thing?'
A male's voice: 'Child, your soul is a beautiful thing. The angels wept tonight.'
Upon hearing this, Raoul de Chagny grew extremely angry. He decided to wait until Mademoiselle Daaé left and then he would confront the man who was in her dressing room. He waited in shadow until Mm. Daaé left the dressing room and then he entered, ready to challenge the man. Much to his surprise, the small room was empty."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Quite. After that night, it seems that the young de Chagny became obsessed with the girl. One day, Raoul received a letter from her."
"Do you have the letter?"
Sherlock Holmes nodded and read it aloud for my benefit.
"'My dear Raoul,' (it read)
'I have not forgotten the little boy that jumped into the sea to fetch my scarf. I am writing to you today because in a month I am heading to Perros where my poor father, whom you knew very well, is buried. The anniversary of his death is near, and I would like to say good-bye to him once again. He is buried in the church where we use to play as children and where we said our final good-byes. If you care to pay your respects to my poor father and speak with me like you said you wanted to, then I will be at Perros.
Fondly,
Christine Daaé'
'There is more," Holmes said replacing the letter in his pocket.
"Yes, I'm sure. Mr. Holmes, it seems from that letter, that Raoul and Christine were childhood friends. Is that so?"
"Yes," he replied. "I asked the Count and he told me his brother and Mademoiselle Daaé did know each other and when they were young, Raoul's governess would take him to play near where Christine lived."
"Cool," I replied.
"I'm sorry," Watson said getting to his feet. "I should stroke the fire. How very remiss of me."
It took me a moment before I realized what Watson was talking about. When I finally understood, I busted out laughing. Both the detective and the doctor looked at me as though I completely lost my mind.
"No Doc, I'm not cold," I said once I caught my breath. "Cool is just an expression people use. It means awesome," when they still didn't know what I meant, I wracked by brain to find a synonym for cool. "It means interesting," I said when I finally thought of one.
"Oh," Watson replied. "Cool." He tested the word and then smiled. "Cool."
Holmes groaned and cleared his throat angrily. All of us returned our attention to the detective. "The Count informed me that it was my duty to pursue his brother and make sure that he did not become involved with her."
"Certainly an odd case for you Mr. Holmes," I said quietly. "After reading Dr. Watson's accounts of your adventures, I would have thought you'd dismiss him without even hearing his statement."
"Ordinarily I would Mademoiselle Sterling," Holmes said taking a puff at his pipe. "But the disappearing man interested me. How could a man have been in a dressing room and then vanish?"
I shrugged, not knowing what else to do.
"I told the Count that I would think the matter over and he left thanking me profusely in both English and French.
'Not twenty minutes after the Count's departure, I had another client, a Monsieur Firmin Richard, one of the new managers of the Opera Populaire. He informed me that he and his partner, Monsieur Moncharmin had taken over the opera from the previous managers, Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny. He felt that these two gentlemen had left them with quite a problem and wanted me to solve it."
"What could possibly have been amiss at an opera house?"
"Monsieur Richard told me that on the night of the previous manager's retirement, a body was discovered. The chief scene shifter, a Monsieur Joseph Buquet, was found dead, hanging from an old set, in the third cellar of the opera house."
"Nasty!" Becky exclaimed.
Holmes completely ignored her comment and continued with his narrative. "According to my client, Monsieur Mercier, the acting manager, went to cut the poor man down, but when he arrived where the corpse had been found, the rope that was used to hang him was gone."
"What do you mean it was gone? Certainly a dead man could not just jump to the ground and get rid of the rope around his neck," I said, not bothering to disguise the skeptism in my voice.
"I too find it impossible for a rope to just disappear. Monsieur Richard also told me that on the same night, the retiring managers instructed him and Monsieur Moncharmin to change all two thousand locks in the building."
"Oh come on," Becky said with a laugh. "What were those two dudes thinking? I mean there can't possibly be robbers at the opera house."
"Dudes?" Watson asked curiously.
"A slang word for men," I replied quickly. I then returned my attention to Holmes. "Sir, what was the reason for this outrageous request?"
"The retiring managers told my client that the opera was plagued by things much worse than thieves. They said that Garnier's opera house was plagued by ghosts.
My client also told me that these two gentlemen said the opera had one specific ghost who haunted it. The ghost arrived the same time the building was constructed and is even mentioned in the opera's lease."
"Wait, come again? Who mentions a ghost in a lease?" I asked Sherlock Holmes.
He chose to ignore my question. He reached into his waistcoat pocket once again and this time he removed several folded papers, tied together with a piece of red ribbon.
"The lease," he said untying the ribbon, "is a very detailed document. The lease states that the managers are able to choose the opera season control all finances and hold the rights to hire or fire any actor. The document ends with clause ninety eight, or as Monsieur Richard described it, 'the funny clause.' You see, clause ninety eight gives reasons that the aforementioned privileges can be withdrawn.
In addition to the formal information in the clause, there are two conditions written in red ink in what appears to be a child's hand. These two conditions both refer to the Opera Ghost.
Condition fives states that the privileges can be withdrawn if the management fails to pay the Opera Ghost his salary of 20,000 francs a month which comes out to roughly 240,000 francs a year.
Condition six states that box five, on the grand tier, shall be placed at the disposal of the Opera Ghost and cannot be sold under any circumstances. If the box is sold, the lease will be null-in void."
"That's one demanding ghost," I said with a smile.
"Several days later, Monsieur Richard received a letter from the so-called ghost, welcoming them to their new position. The Ghost also accused the men of selling box five, but decided to forgive them, because they may not have read clause ninety eight of the lease. The Ghost also threatened them if box five was sold again. The letter mentioned a Christine Daaé…"
"The girl whom Raoul de Chagny is infatuated with?" I asked, not caring that I completely interrupted his train of thought.
"Correct," Holmes replied. "That is all I know so far. Watson and I arrived in Paris late last night. Today I had planned to go to Garnier's Opera House and discover whether anything else transpired since I spoke with Monsieur Richard. However, my plans were interrupted, when after breakfast, two young women were brought, uninvited, into my hotel room."
I chose to ignore the sarcasm in Sherlock Holmes's last statement. I knew that he despised his privacy being disturbed and I also knew he held a very low opinion of women. However, I did not allow the knowledge that my friend and I completely disrupted him weight heavily on my conscious. We had no where else to go, and I was determined to stay with him and Watson.
