The lower they went, the more insurances the Persian appeared to take. He continued going to Raoul to check whether he was holding his arm appropriately, indicating him how he himself conveyed his hand as though consistently prepared to discharge, however the gun was in his pocket. Steps were heard and shadows skimmed through the dimness. The Persian drew Raoul behind a set piece. They saw passing previously or more them elderly people men bowed by age and the previous weight of drama view. Some could scarcely drag themselves along; others, from propensity, with stooping bodies and outstretched hands, searched for ways to close. Otter your butt napkins my lord poster. They were the entryway shades, the old, destroyed scene-shifters, on whom a magnanimous administration had taken pity, giving them the employment of closing entryways above and underneath the stage. They went about unremittingly, start to finish of the structure, closing the entryways; and they were likewise called “The draft-expellers,” in any event around then, for I have little uncertainty that at this point they are for the most part dead. Drafts are exceptionally terrible for the voice, any place they may originate from. M. Pedro Gailhard has himself disclosed to me that he made a couple of extra posts as entryway screens for old stage-craftsmen whom he was reluctant to excuse from the administration of the Opera.

The two men may have staggered over them, awakening them and inciting a solicitation for clarifications. For the occasion, M. Mifroid’s request spared them from any such disagreeable experiences. The Persian and Raoul invited this occurrence, which mitigated them of awkward observers, for a portion of those entryway shades, having nothing else to do or no place to lay their heads, remained at the Opera, from inaction or need, and went through the night there. “Hang it!” murmured the Persian. “I don’t have the foggiest idea what they are searching for, however they may handily discover us….Let us move away, quick!…Your hand up, sir, prepared to fire!…Bend your arm … more…that’s it!…Hand at the degree of your eye, like you were battling a duel and trusting that the word will fire! Goodness, leave your gun in your pocket. Speedy, gone along, down-steps. Level of your eye! Question of life or death!… Here, thusly, these steps!” They arrived at the fifth basement. “Goodness, what a duel, sir, what a duel!” However, they were not left to make the most of their isolation for long. Different shades presently descended by a similar route by which the entryway screens had gone up. Every one of these shades conveyed a little light and moved it about, above, beneath and in general, like searching for a person or thing.