has seen Mother Giry.”
“Do you think we’ve eaten her?”
“No, but you’ve locked her up in the office; and anyone passing the office can hear her yelling, ‘Oh, the scoundrels! Oh, the scoundrels!’ ”
At this point of this singular conversation, Mercier arrived, all out of breath.
“There!” he said, in a gloomy voice. “It’s worse than ever! … I shouted, ‘It’s a serious matter! Open the door! It’s I, Mercier.’ I heard footsteps. The door opened and Moncharmin appeared. He was very pale. He said, ‘What do you want?’ I answered, ‘Someone has run away with Christine Daaé.’ What do you think he said? ‘And a good job, too!’ And he shut the door, after putting this in my hand.”
Mercier opened his hand; Rémy and Gabriel looked.
“The safety-pin!” cried Rémy.
“Strange! Strange!” muttered Gabriel, who could not help shivering.
Suddenly a voice made them all three turn round.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daaé is?”
In spite of the seriousness of the circumstances, the absurdity of the question would have made them roar with laughter, if they had not caught sight of a face so sorrow-stricken that they were at once seized with pity. It was the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.