Boredom drove him to prowl the familiar passageways, and inspecting his secret kingdom he discovered that the room with the mirror was in use again.

Behind the mirror he teased out a lingering melody from his violin, watching the blonde girl on the chaiselongue in the room.

Eyes still closed, she called out, "Stop that noise, I want to rest! Go to the orchestra pit if you want to practise."

Taken aback by the unexpected lack of admiration for his haunting lullaby he paused and considered his next move.

Before he had time to say or do anything, the door flew up, and a drunken young man in evening dress staggered in with a bottle in his hand.

"Found you, here'sh shome champagne, let'sh shelebrate.."

Opening clear blue eyes, the girl spoke disdainfully to the intruder. "You will leave immediately sir. You are drunk."

Ignoring this command, the man stumbled over the floor to grab at the slender figure on the chaiselongue.

With a disgusted exclamation Erik turned away from the mirror to leave. This kind of scene was common enough at the Opéra Populaire. The scream that made him turn back was from the man, not the woman.

Erik's eyes widened in surprise at the tableau in the dressing room. Then he grinned, a spontaneous "Brava!" escaping girl was holding a poker against the throat of the man on the floor, blood streaming from his nose.

"Now you will get out, before I really hurt you," she said calmly.

The next time she came to the dressing room, Agnès Sorel found a wicked-looking stiletto dagger on the chaiselongue, accompanied by a note:

To la Sorelli de l'Opéra

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With sincere admiration and my compliments,

F de l'O

[Author's note: well, dear reader, didn't you wonder where la Sorelli got her dagger? ]