The sound of the wooden staff on the bare planks of the stage deck precede Adele's arrival, bringing Nadir quickly to her side. "I am so happy you decided to return," he says, taking her arm.

"What is it?" she asks, "Where is the vicomte?"

"I hope you do not mind, but I took him into your office. Your cautionary remarks about someone possibly lurking about had me realize I am really at a disadvantage here."

"Imagine the anxiety of the performers and crew when our friend was playing his pranks," she sniffs. "It always surprised me that anyone believed a brand new building could be haunted, but there is a certain thrill to the myths about opera houses and ghosts. In many ways it would be unlucky not to have one lurking about."

"There is something about darkness and shadows…nighttime itself, for that matter, to awaken fear no matter the space," he says. "In my culture there were stories about jinns or genies, I believe is the Western concept. Beings who can steal your soul. My mother would speak of them if I was behaving in a way she disapproved of."

"Mothers can be demons themselves," Adele agrees. "Being one I know the power I have over my daughter. I suppose I should be ashamed, but there are times when aggravation outweighs patience."

"My wife was ill after our son was born…he was ill himself, so the two of them had the utmost patience with one another," he says. "It was I who often acted like a spoiled child."

"I am sorry," Adele says. "I take it both of them are no longer with us."

Shaking his head, he says, "Mitra died when Reza was but five years old…he passed when he was ten. Too soon." Brushing a finger under his eyes. "But, this discussion is taking us away from the situation at hand."

So that was the reason for the sadness behind his eyes. Perhaps also the reason for his compassion toward Erik. So much more to learn about this man. After so many years of believing her heart to be unable to feel warmth, these past weeks are showing this not to be the case. However, he is correct, this new attack must be addressed before personal considerations. "The vicomte."

"Yes," he says, taking her arm. "Let us leave the world of fantasy and return to the world of the practical and real."

Interesting he should talk about fantasy and reality and beings taking over one's soul. The theater was very much like that. Picking up her pace to keep up with him despite the pain in her feet was a reminder of her own ambitions. The desire to dance overrode the damage she knew was happening to her body. What would we do without our dreams and illusions, though?

"He is still alive, I hope," she says as they reach the office door. "Where is Henri?

Nadir nods his head, indicating she open the door. "I let him go once I moved the vicomte. I felt both of us sitting on the stage was serving no purpose and I frankly felt foolish at needing some poor worker to help me if I was attacked."

"That was not the point – he was here to act as a witness, not a protector."

"Even so, my ego got the best of me…he did help me move M. de Chagny, so all was not in vain."

Walking immediately to the chaise to examine the young man. "Well, he seems comfortable. I would be hard pressed to say he looks to be the victim of an attempted strangulation."

"He is drunk," Nadir says, pressing a finger to his lips. Lifting one of Raoul's legs back onto the sofa and adjusting the small blanket he placed over him.

"No attack?" she mouths.

Nadir shakes his head. "The poor man was rambling on about a man in a black cape, but then passed out when I removed the noose from around his neck."

"How terrible for him," she says, smiling at him. "What shall we do? This cannot be left without investigating."

"First we must rouse him," he says, winking at her then proceeds to slap Raoul lightly on both his cheeks. "M. de Chagny, M. de Chagny – time to wake up."

Adele goes to the armoire and pours a glass of water from the carafe and brings it to Nadir.

"To drink?"

"No, toss it on his face," she smirks. "Well, just enough to startle him, save some for him to drink."

Rather than tossing the water, Nadir opts to wet his fingers, continuing to pat the younger man's cheeks in encouragement.

Finally, the blue eyes blink into a sort of wakefulness. "What? Where am I? Who?" Pushing Nadir's hand away, he closes his eyes again. "Leave me be."

Adele pushes Nadir aside, grabs the glass and douses Raoul. "Wake up. Now."

This time his eyes open wide and stare at the two people hanging over him in shock. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he sits up, grabbing onto Nadir's arm to keep from slipping onto the floor. "What is going on? Where am I?"

"You are in my office," Adele says, walking around her desk to sit down.

"Why?"

"We found you unconscious on the stage with a noose around your neck…"

Raoul reaches for his neck, his skin beginning to show abrasions from the rope. "A noose?"

"You do not remember?"

He shakes his head no, then rubs the back of his head. "I must have hit my head when I fell…I assume I fell. You found me?"

Nadir nods.

"I suppose I should thank you."

"You remember nothing?" Adele asks.

"Might I have a glass of water…to drink?" he asks with the hint of a smile. "As to your question, the last thing I remember was hiding behind one of those pieces of scenery waiting for Christine to leave."

"Well, it would appear someone was waiting for you," Nadir says. "Any idea who?"

"Her suitor? The fellow in the black cape?"

"Him again?" Adele sniffs, quirking an eyebrow at Nadir. "Impossible."

"Impossible? Why would you say that?"

"Because I know where he was…and he was nowhere near the auditorium."

"Oh, I see."

"If you were to suspect someone other than Mlle. Daae's friend, who might that be?" Nadir asks, handing him the glass of water.

"I have no idea," he replies, taking a long drink.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Better, much better. Thank you. I cannot imagine how I might have felt if you had not found me." Putting the glass down on the coffee table, he grabs the arm of the chaise and struggles to his feet. "I suppose I should be going home. My brother has been hounding me about missing family meals."

"Indeed," Adele says.

"You think that strange?"

"I think it strange you just escaped a near death experience and you are worried about your brother and dinner."

"You do not know Phillippe very well, then."

"I would happy to go with you to the magistrate's office, if you wish to file a report," Nadir says.

"No, that will not be necessary. I probably just tripped and fell."

"With a noose around your neck?"

"Oh. That. Just a bit of fooling around with a prop. A little too much whiskey. Anxious pacing. The floor is quite slippery as I recall." Mindless rambling coming from his mouth. "No harm done, right? A bit of a headache. Really, I must be returning home."

"I shall help you to your carriage," Nadir says, following him to the door.

"No, I am fine. I have troubled you enough already. Both you and Madame Giry."

"No trouble," Adele says. "Are you certain you are able to find your way out? The theater can be perplexing to someone unused to its mysteries."

"I will see him out," Nadir says, taking Raoul's arm, pressing his fingers into his flesh. "Come, M. Vicomte, I should not wish for you to fall again." Turning back to Adele, he says, "I shall return shortly – lock the door behind us."

Once out the door and in the alleyway outside the theater, Raoul wrests his arm away from Nadir. "How dare you manhandle me. I am not a criminal."

"Bearing false witness is a crime."

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"In a word: yes," Nadir sneers. "What are you and Buquet up to? Any fool could see the noose was a mere prop…as you suggested, but that was not the story you intended to tell, was it?"

"He did try to strangle me."

"Who? This mysterious man in the black cape?"

"No," Raoul sighs. "Buquet. He came up behind me when I was waiting for Christine."

"What made him stop?"

"I agreed to help him incriminate that man she is with – we have a mutual hatred for him, as it turns out."

"So you allowed him to give the impression you were strangled, but survived?"

"Something like that." Raoul's laugh is bitter. "I took a few swigs of whiskey in the event he truly meant to kill me so I would not be aware of dying."

"Even so, you still muttered about a man in a black cape."

"Did I? I always thought people spoke the truth on their deathbeds."

Nadir's eyes become soft as he ponders the younger man's words. He has no idea of his fortune in life, seemingly willing to die over a romance gone awry. Little does he know how the man he envies suffered and suffers still because of a deformity at birth over which he had no control. If anyone has earned the love of the young lady, it is Erik, not this weak selfish young man. Yet, he pities him…to be so angry as to want to punish others by ending your life. Nadir shudders at the very thought.

"Perhaps you did not truly believe you would die," Nadir says. "Alcohol does tend to distort reality. In any event, you are alive and, as you said, dinner with your family awaits."

Raoul's laugh is rough. "That was a lie as well."

"I know," Nadir replies, raising his arm to the de Chagny carriage driver to come forward. "Perhaps you would find more happiness with speaking the truth…and imbibing less in the spirits – they are not called such for no reason."

Climbing into the coach, Raoul says, "I shall think on your words. They make more sense than others I have heard recently from anyone else."

"Good night, Vicomte." Once the door is closed behind him, Nadir hits the side of the carriage signaling the driver he can proceed.

"Good night, M. Khan," Raoul calls out the window, "…and thank you."

"Damnation." The flyman ducks into a shadow as he sees the carriage he followed from the stage entrance to the Rue Scribe pass him. No doubt returning to the opera house…most likely with that hag Giry inside alone.

There is no doubt the two women left together to get the Daae girl back to the Phantom. Now it appears the task was accomplished and he does not know which gate she entered. The accident left his left side bruised, affecting his movement, running was impossible, but he believed he would at least be able to see where she exited the carriage.

The foolish noble fop is no doubt crying about his misfortune to the foreigner. The temptation to kill him had been strong, but there was always the chance the mealy-mouthed boy might actually be a suitable accomplice in defeating the man who causes him so much aggravation.

How much blame is he supposed to swallow due to the creature's pranks. The extra work he has to put in to make certain a scrim will not fall on the bloated soprano or one of the dancing girls – unrewarded either with a bonus in pay or a simple thank you.

All he hoped for in the beginning was to get him to stop. Talk to him man to man. Tell him how difficult he was making his job. Once he got that first look at him, though, he found he could use the image to scare the ballet rats and gain his respect back. He could even blame his own mistakes on the opera ghost. Who would know?

Hag Giry warned him, but he had enough of her bossiness as well. None of the shows would have been able to go forward without him and his crew…but mostly him.

Capturing the Opera Ghost, removing him from the Palais Garnier will make him a hero.

The carriage gone, he begins walking up the Rue Scribe again, examining each entrance until one gate in particular strikes his eye. The damp evening air collects on the metal bars – this gate, however, does not display the small droplets as the others. Instead the moisture on the cross bar has been disturbed, perhaps by a small hand?

Locks have never been a problem for him. The cast were always getting locked out of their dressing rooms, losing their keys. A mostly honest man, but often wanting a bottle of his favorite whiskey found his skill also came in handy with opening doors not meant to be accessed by strangers.

The street is relatively quiet, no foot traffic to speak of and he is skilled enough to make using his picks appear much like opening the gate with a key. Once inside the small yard, he proceeds to easily open the heavy wooden door. The presence of an oil lamp just inside raises his confidence he has indeed found the secret entrance. A underlying scent of flowers adds to his delight. Why has he never considered the ghost had an alternative means to come and go? Well, no matter. The timing is perfect. Confronting the monster in his home with his paramour will be so much more rewarding.

So far, so good. He is not fool enough to think he will be able to simply walk to the man's front door, but he knows enough about the nooks and passages on the upper levels to have a feel for how the route might go. The girl likely left some clues as well – stones recently disturbed or shiny patches on the walls where the rest are covered with dust.

When the sandbag strikes him in the back of the head causing him to stumble and drop the oil lamp, he curses his failure to consider booby traps. Well, once burned, he will be more cautious. Feeling around the tar-covered path for the lantern, his hand only finds an opening he did not notice earlier. Despite drawing back, a trap door opens beneath him. Unable to gain purchase as he begins slipping downward, he screams. But only for a moment. The chill of the water at first shocks him, then stifles any more of his cries. By the time the floor above him closes again, the idea anyone will be able to hear him is moot.