My dear readers,

I have little to explain this chapter, and I thought perhaps you would like to know the latest word I have received from Monsieur O.G. In my humble opinion, I think he is getting more comfortable with me. Here it is:

Mademoiselle,

Do not be so stunned when you read this letter as you were at my last visit to you. It was rather humiliating, I would think, to be seen jumping around speechless like a giddy little girl. So, as I said, do not be stunned into silence. Did you honestly think that I had left you for good? I have enclosed several more documents that could be of use to you, if you are wise. And so, a few instructions before you begin the next installment in this tale. Never again, I repeat, NEVER, allow anyone but yourself to read what I write you. I have grown quiet tired of the endless fawning of those who think that I am in reality a "misunderstood lovable teddy bear" as I believe one of your less desirable acquaintances put it. A teddy bear! The Phantom of the Opera! What nonsense. Mad girl! Secondly, you must update on a more regular basis. I know now that your schooling is at a short break, and I hope you take full advantage of it.

Your humble servant,

O.G.

P.S. Beware, mademoiselle, or I may have to visit you again.

All I can say is: One can only hope he will follow through on his threat. (To Monsieur O.G.: only the one about visiting, please!)

The Opera House was at its busiest, which, to Cecily, meant its best. Costumers ran after members of the cast who had to have one last fitting, stagehands carried props and scenery to the back wings of the stage, and chorus members desperately tried to memorize the last of their choreography. Yes, l'Opera Populaire was absolutely chaotic. It was brilliant.

Due to her injury, Cecily had become the gopher for the current production Rigoletto. Taking a moment to watch the final rehearsals, she watched as Piangi, as the Duke, seduced Gilda, played by La Carlotta. An older man, hunched into his costume to portray the title character appeared next, but Cecily was distracted. Linnea, the girl who had the bed next to her in the dormitories, was tugging urgently at her sleeve. Cecily tried to shrug off the younger girl, but Linnea was persistent.

"Cecily! You have a package in the dormitories! I was worried someone would try to take it while you were gone!" Seeing Cecily's reluctance, she added, "There's a rose tied to it!"

Cecily turned, surprised. Who would send her a package with a rose? Perhaps this was just the trickery of the other chorus girls, but she had to check. She hurried through the hallways leading back to the dormitories. Indeed, lying on her bed was a package with a rose tied to it with black ribbon. She glanced about. Linnea and a girl she barely knew were the only two in the room. It would likely never get quieter. She may as well open it now.

Slipping the rose from the ribbon, she placed it to her nose. It still smelled fresh. She smiled into the flower. Whoever had sent her such a thing had done so with care. She gently set the rose down on the table next to her and picked up the package. It was soft and large. Cecily peeled back a corner and looked down.

She nearly dropped the parcel. Inside were her torn dress and the one Erik had given her. She thanked heaven there was no note she needed someone to read. How would she explain that one?

Seeing her strange reaction to the package, Linnea came over. "What is it, Cecily? Do you know who sent it to you?"

Time for a white lie. "It is a dress, but I do not know who sent it to me."

"You're lying, you fib! Now I can see it's a dress, but you do indeed know who it's from. Who… Oh! It's from the one who got you a doctor! Oh, Cecily, is he your new beau? That would be delightful! And to afford such wonderful material…He must be rich! Oh dear, you have rich, handsome, wonderful man who adores you! Tell us all about him!"

At the mention of rich, several other chorus girls had entered the room and were gathered in a little circle around Cecily. She was trapped. She sighed. "All right, I'll tell you about him, but first I want some time to myself to finish looking at what he's given me. I'll be back soon." Reluctantly, the other girls let her push through them. They knew they would get nothing out of her now, and that she would indeed tell them when she returned.

Cecily ran to the stairs. She had no real reason to, but her feet moved her there. Clutching the package in her hands, she thought of reasons he might have sent it to her. Simply returning what was hers came to mind, but why care about her things if he wanted her dead. He obviously didn't want her dead. He had been alone with her and had simply disappeared without a word.

She slumped against the wall and opened the package completely. Within was indeed the gown she had left behind in her haste to escape, as well as what was left of her first dress. "Why did you send this to me, Erik? Are you still Erik at all?" Suddenly she knew she had to find out, even if it cost her life. Her curiosity would not be sated by simple conjecture. She had to see him again.

She lay the parcel in a corner, knowing that no one would come down here, and started down the steps. She recalled Erik's advice to remain on the edge of each step, and noted with amusement the faint cracks indicating a trap door. She half wished to step there to find out what lay beneath. She knew better. The man that had tried to kill her with his bare hands might well have lay some other deadly trap. She shuddered, but continued.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she followed the corridors as far as she clearly remembered. She had no desire to be caught in this endless labyrinth alone, so she called out. "Erik! Erik, are you here? If you can here me, I need to talk to you! Why ever did you send that dress to me? Answer me! Do you realize how much gossip you've stirred up around me now? Erik, I need to talk to you! How will I ever be able to satisfy their questions without giving us both away?"

"I'm sure you will think of something, mademoiselle." He noted with some pleasure that his disembodied voice made her jump. It would make anyone jump if they didn't realize what was going on. "Why have you come here?" The voice seemed to be emanating from within the stone wall.

She frantically searched the corridor. Then she saw it, one crack was wider then all the others. She felt around it, and something gave way under her touch. When she looked back up, it was into the gaze of a masked man. "I, I, I…" Her voice seemed to have abandoned her. What was wrong with her?

"Stop stuttering. What is it?"

His rough tone had brought her from her struggle. "I simply came down to ask why you caused me so much damned trouble with that package of yours," she spat. "But I can see that I may as well have asked the stairs on the way down, from the attitude your showing me!"

"You want to know why I sent it to you?" Her anger was making him tense. How dare she come down to his most secret of places and blame him? "I sent it to you because I have no use for such frivolity. I, unlike you, do not wear the clothing of the opposite gender!"

He had meant it as a barb, she knew, but still she could not contain the smile spreading across her face. The very thought of Erik dressed in the gown he had bought her was too much to bear. A loud chortle sprang from her throat, and she giggled for a moment.

"What? What do you find so funny?" He was indignant! Not only does she accuse him, but she was laughing at him also! Damned girl!

She looked up at him as a new wave of laughter overcame her. A hat had appeared on his head in her imagination, and she gasped to explain the thought his words had released in her head. "You…women's clothes…dress…hat…look like…Ha ha ha!"

Despite the lack of clarity, Erik got the point. She had imagined him dressed in a gown and a hat. Brilliant. The fear tactic was slipping once again, this time, he felt, it was irreparable.

She looked back up at him, her mirth subsiding. She had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. Before her stood Erik, the man. He looked sane, appeared friendly. How badly she wanted to believe he was!

"I sent it to thank you."

Her head cocked to one side, confused. "What for?"

"For preventing that stagehand from finding me."

"Oh," was all she could manage. She hated to think what would have happened if Buquet would have found Erik. There would have certainly been a fight, and Cecily severely doubted Buquet's chances at victory.

He watched her carefully. She didn't trust him completely, that was obvious. Then why had she come down here? What had drawn her? Holding back a very un-Phantom-like sigh, Erik suggested her return. "Come, I will take you back to the stairs." She nodded, following him mutely.

He showed her the foot of the stairs, with all seven stories sprawling above her. She stood there, letting the grandness of the structure dwarf her. Lord, what was wrong with her. The man had tried to thank her, and she couldn't say a thing! She felt him moving away, and blurted, "If you ask it of me, Erik, I will return." The silence that surrounded her pressed painfully inward as she realized she may have made that declaration to the stones. Sighing, she began the ascent.

"I will remember." Her pause told him she had heard. Quietly, he added, "Little cat."