In no time, he had activated the mechanism of the mirror, and in a quick spin we had been draged inside one of the dark tunnels of the Opera. A clever Phantom trick, I had to admit... The Persian had shown himself far better informed of the Opera underground than I considered myself. I had no way of counting it, but I assumed it took me around three or four hours of obstinate walking and searching, dead turns and having to restart that labyrinth a number of times, to find the lake for myself when I had been there. Now this small, eerie man, made his way within no time at all!
All the trash, the useless wood apparatus on the floor, the ropes hanging here and there, on the way down, nothing was an obstacle to him. One could safely assume he had been there numerous times. I welcomed this knowledge, for even if I had managed to arrive to the lake, I know I would never have gotten across it and inside the house.
I wondered if he had found this path for himself, or if Erik had taught him. That seemed highly inprobable, but the Persian was surprising me constantly, revealing each time a new and more amazing side to his connections with Erik. For instance the Persian showed that he wasn’t the enemy I visualized him.
"Monsieur, if you don’t hate Erik...why not put these pistols away?" I hoped I didn’t sound impertinent.
"Don’t question any further, just hold it in front of your eyes. You can put the pistol away, if you will, but it is imperative that your hand remains at that position." His voice was hoarse and very low.
I didn’t realize it was for aprehension of Erik’s dreadful lasso until later...
We passed through a number of stagehands, and even had the most dread meeting with the rat-killer, a figure whose existence in this earthly world I could never have guessed. Now, I knew many things about the Opera, since it could be considered my own house, but I had never learnt that there was a person employed solely to get rid of the rats!
We finally got to a tunel in the third floor that seemed familiar. It was the same spot I had been to before, the very place where they had found the body of M. Buquet. But I had thought this passage was closed... After some exploring, the Persian, on his knees, forced some mechanism that opened another passage way. I was agape. It was indeed a labyrinth, full of all sorts of trap doors, and only now I was getting an idea of the web that existed down there.
"Monsieur, you know this place so well! One could venture as far as imagining you know it as well as him!"
"I would know, if I had built it myself as well."
"What? But Erik didn’t..."
"Hush! I found the place!"
The Persian, quite agile for his age and his restrained frame, crawled through the opening, and lit it with the lantern so I could do the same.
"I still can’t believe I allowed a child like you to follow me in this insane saga, wearing nothing but a ballet costume." He grumped.
"I thought we had to be silent!"
He shook his head reprovingly and moved on. And all the sudden, he had disappeared. Fear was taking over as I clearly imagined the Persian to have fallen in one of the unexpected trap doors, and be gone forever. Only when I heard him landing on the bottom of an unseen pit, I understood where he had gone, and where I should go.
"I did not foresee this obstacle, Mademoiselle. Perhaps you should wait for me here?"
I handed him the lantern and examined the pit. It was quite deep. Not a good time for trying my ankles.
"No. Can you catch me, if I jump?"
"Well, yes, but..."
I held to the edge of the pit, and tried to go down as much as I could holding to the stones on its walls. Then I jumped, being deftly catched by his arms. And to think I used to detest this man so much... If it wasn’t for him, I would never had made to the inside of the house by the lake. It is true we didn’t get a fine reception on the front door, but still...
The Persian took the lantern from my hand and lifted it to exam the place where we were. As he caught the first glance of the dark hexagonal room, he gasped, but refused to explain why...
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