"I'll go back again," said Remy, and disappeared at a run.
Thereupon the stage-manager arrived.
"Well, M. Mercier, are you coming? What are you two doing here?
You're wanted, Mr. Acting-Manager."
"I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives,"
declared Mercier. "I have sent for Mifroid. We shall see when
he comes!"
"And I tell you that you ought to go down to the organ at once."
"Not before the commissary comes."
"I've been down to the organ myself already."
"Ah! And what did you see?"
"Well, I saw nobody! Do you hear--nobody!"
"What do you want me to do down there for{sic}?"
"You're right!" said the stage-manager, frantically pushing his
hands through his rebellious hair. "You're right! But there
might be some one at the organ who could tell us how the stage came
to be suddenly darkened. Now Mauclair is nowhere to be found.
Do you understand that?"
Mauclair was the gas-man, who dispensed day and night at will on
the stage of the Opera.
"Mauclair is not to be found!" repeated Mercier, taken aback.
"Well, what about his assistants?"
"There's no Mauclair and no assistants! No one at the lights,
I tell you! You can imagine," roared the stage-manager, "that that
little girl must have been carried off by somebody else: she didn't
run away by herself! It was a calculated stroke and we have to find
out about it.
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