`Well, has the ghost whispered a word in your ear yet?'

`Wait, don't be in such a hurry,' replied M. Armand Moncharmin, in the same gay tone. `The performance has only begun and you know that the ghost does not usually come until the middle of the first act.'

The first act passed without incident, which did not surprise Carlotta's friends, because Margarita does not sing in this act. As for the managers, they looked at each other, when the curtain fell.

`That's one!' said Moncharmin.

`Yes, the ghost is late,' said Firmin Richard.

`It's not a bad house,' said Moncharmin, `for `a house with a curse on it.''

M. Richard smiled and pointed to a fat, rather vulgar woman, dressed in black, sitting in a stall in the middle of the auditorium with a man in a broadcloth frock-coat on either side of her.

`Who on earth are `those?'' asked Moncharmin.

``Those,' my dear fellow, are my concierge, her husband and her brother.'

`Did you give them their tickets?'

`I did... My concierge had never been to the Opera - this is, the first time - and, as she is now going to come every night, I wanted her to have a good seat, before spending her time showing other people to theirs.'

Moncharmin asked what he meant and Richard answered that he had persuaded his concierge, in whom he had the greatest confidence, to come and take Mme. Giry's place. Yes, he would like to see if, with that woman instead of the old lunatic, Box Five would continue to astonish the natives?

`By the way,' said Moncharmin, `you know that Mother Giry is going to lodge a complaint against you.'

`With whom? The ghost?'

The ghost! Moncharmin had almost forgotten him. However, that mysterious person did nothing to bring himself to the memory of the managers; and they were just saying so to each other for the second time, when the door of the box suddenly opened to admit the startled stage-manager.

`What's the matter?' they both asked, amazed at seeing him there at such a time.

`It seems there's a plot got up by Christine Daaé's friends against Carlotta. Carlotta's furious.'

`What on earth...?' said Richard, knitting his brows.

But the curtain rose on the kermess scene and Richard made a sign to the stage-manager to go away. When the two were alone again, Moncharmin leaned over to Richard:

`Then Daaé has friends?' he asked.

`Yes, she has.'

`Whom?'

Richard glanced across at a box on the grand tier containing no one but two men.

`The Comte de Chagny?'