“But how?” asked the poor girl tearfully.

We heard her straining, trying to free herself from the bonds that held her.

“I know where the key is,” she said, in a voice that seemed exhausted by the effort she had made. “But I am fastened so tight.⁠ ⁠… Oh, the wretch!”

And she gave a sob.

“Where is the key?” I asked, signing to M. de Chagny not to speak and to leave the business to me, for we had not a moment to lose.

“In the next room, near the organ, with another little bronze key, which he also forbade me to touch. They are both in a little leather bag which he calls the bag of life and death.⁠ ⁠… Raoul! Raoul! Fly! Everything is mysterious and terrible here, and Erik will soon have gone quite mad, and you are in the torture-chamber!⁠ ⁠… Go back by the way you came. There must be a reason why the room is called by that name!”