He stopped, with his heart thumping in his chest: suppose Christine Daaé had been found? He saw a group of men and asked:
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daaé is?”
And somebody laughed.
At the same moment the stage buzzed with a new sound and, amid a crowd of men in evening-dress, all talking and gesticulating together, appeared a man who seemed very calm and displayed a pleasant face, all pink and chubby-cheeked, crowned with curly hair and lit up by a pair of wonderfully serene blue eyes.
Mercier, the acting-manager, called the Vicomte de Chagny’s attention to him and said:
“This is the gentleman to whom you should put your question, monsieur. Let me introduce M. Mifroid, the commissary of police.”
“Ah, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! Delighted to meet you, monsieur,” said the commissary. “Would you mind coming with me? … And now where are the managers? … Where are the managers? …”
Mercier did not answer, and Rémy, the secretary, volunteered the information that the managers were locked up in their office and that they knew nothing as yet of what had happened.
“You don’t mean to say so! Let us go up to the office!”
And M. Mifroid, followed by an ever-increasing crowd, turned toward the business side of the building. Mercier took advantage of the confusion to slip a key into Gabriel’s hand: