once in the fifth cellar, the persian drew breath.he seemed to enjoy a rather greater sense of security than he had displayed when they both stopped in the third; but he never ed the attitude of his hand.and raoul, remembering the persian's observation--"iknow these pistols can be relied upon"--was more and more astonished, wondering why any one should be so gratified at being able to rely upon a pistol which he did not intend to use!
but the persian left him no time for reflection.telling raoul to stay where he was, he ran up a few steps of the staircase which they had just left and then returned.
"how stupid of us!" he whispered."we shall soon have seen the end of those men with their lanterns.it is the firemen going their rounds."[4]
----
[4] in those days, it was still part of the firemen's duty to watch over the safety of the opera house outside the performances;but this service has since been suppressed.i asked m.pedro gailhard the reason, and he replied:
the two men waited five minutes longer.then the persian took raoul up the stairs again; but suddenly he stopped him with a gesture.
something moved in the darkness before them.
"flat on your stomach!" whispered the persian.
the two men lay flat on the floor.
they were only just in time.a shade, this time.carrying no light, just a shade in the shade, passed.it passed close to them, near enough to touch them.
they felt the warmth of its cloak upon them.for they could distinguish the shade sufficiently to see that it wore a cloak which shrouded it from head to foot.on its head it had a soft felt hat....
it moved away, drawing its feet against the walls and sometimes giving a kick into a corner.
"whew!" said the persian."we've had a narrow escape; that shade knows me and has twice taken me to the managers' office.""it was because the management was afraid that, in their utter inexperience of the cellars of the opera, the firemen might set fire to the building!""is it some one belonging to the theater police?" asked raoul.