Phantom of the Opera Page #2

Music is first.

Music is everything.

I understand.

You don't understand.

Women never understand.

But they are docile.

Perhaps you're not

getting enough sleep.

Come later tomorrow,

say midday.

Thank you, monsieur.

Mademoiselle,

remember you have

responsibilities to others

as well as yourself.

I know.

I can never repay you

for what you've done for me.

Good day, monsieur.

Good day.

Would you come

this way, monsieur?

Monsieur Claudio

is here, Signor Ferretti.

Oh! Come in, Claudio.

Come in.

Won't you sit

down a moment?

Thank you.

I suppose you noticed your

protg was disappointing today.

Well, an off day

now and then...

You've done a lot

for her, Signor.

Nevertheless, she is making

definite progress, eh?

I was dismissed from the

orchestra last night.

Oh.

Then you will have to withdraw your

support from Mademoiselle DuBois?

Only for a little while, just until

I can secure another position.

I had hoped that you would

continue to instruct mademoiselle.

Claudio, if you don't mind me

saying so, you are a fool.

A man of your age might win a

young girl like Christine DuBois

if he happened

to be the director

of an Opera company

but a poor violinist...

Signor.

We agreed never to

discuss my motives.

Please. Won't you continue

to work with her?

Why should I?

Why should I

assume your burden

after you spent all

your money on her?

The girl means nothing to me.

But her career means more

to me than anything else.

I would never let you lose

anything on her account.

I'm sorry, Claudio.

Really sorry.

If I had the time...

But my expenses are great,

and you must

remember that many

who can pay are

waiting to study with me.

Well, I'll let her

come a few times,

and then I will tell her

she no longer needs me.

But that isn't true.

As a matter of fact,

if you had the money,

she might be launched

on a career very soon.

I assume that

Mademoiselle DuBois

has not the means to pay

for her own instructions.

Why, her month's

salary wouldn't be enough

to pay for one

of your lessons.

But, uh...

But I have written

a concerto.

Now, will you trust me if I can

arrange to have it published?

Every violinist has

written a concerto!

Come, come,

my dear Claudio.

But I have faith in this one,

as much faith as I had

in Mademoiselle DuBois when I

came to you three years ago.

Now, I was right about her, Signor.

And I'm right about this.

Pleyel and Desjardines

are certain to publish

it and they'll give me

a substantial advance.

You'll see.

It's a shame. Pleyel's in

there with his etchings.

Why don't they tell the poor

devil he won't see anyone today

instead of torturing

him like this?

Claudio.

He'll see me?

No. He is too

busy today.

Do you know whether

he's seen my manuscript?

Manuscript?

What manuscript?

My concerto.

I know nothing

about it.

Oh, but you yourself took

the portfolio into him.

If I did, you will

receive it in due time.

Now, my dear, the acid. Be careful,

or you'll burn yourself horribly.

Monsieur Pleyel.

What are you doing here?

I've been waiting to see

you since this morning.

Weren't you told I

couldn't see anyone today?

Yes, but my manuscript. I must

find out about my manuscript.

Would you mind giving this fellow

his manuscript, Georgette?

You'll find it on the desk,

if it's anywhere.

What is your name?

Claudio. Erique Claudio.

Claudio.

No, no, no,

it wouldn't be there.

It's a large manuscript in a portfolio.

It's a concerto.

Well, I'm sorry, but I

don't know where it is.

Oh, but it must be here.

If it is, it will turn up.

Call again in a few days.

You don't understand, mademoiselle.

It's the only copy I have.

It represents

two years' work.

You heard what

the lady said.

But it was brought

into this office.

It must be here!

It must be found!

Did we ask you to bring

your music to us, Claudio?

I've seen samples of

your compositions before.

Perhaps some employee

has thrown this one

into the wastebasket,

where it belongs.

Good night!

You think I was right,

then, Monsieur Liszt?

It's magnificent.

Tell me his name again.

Erique Claudio.

Claudio.

I've tried for years to persuade

Pleyel to publish his work.

But you know how Pleyel feels

about unknown composers.

Pleyel will publish

this, I promise.

That's my music!

I thought I told

you to get out.

Thief.

You've stolen my music.

Thief!

Maurice!

You're choking him!

You've stolen my music!

Thief! Thief!

You've stolen my music!

Argh!

What happened?

Stop him! What's

happened, mademoiselle?

Monsieur Pleyel's

been murdered.

Murdered? By that

madman, that Claudio.

Get a doctor, quickly!

You, get a doctor.

Somebody call the police.

You hear. Get the doctor!

Call police! Police!

Police!

Somebody stop him!

What happened?

Monsieur Pleyel

has been murdered!

He ran down that way.

Not here.

I am sorry, monsieur.

Move on and don't come back

into this district tonight.

Lecours,

how could we ever

have been induced

to accept the management

of this place?

It's not an opera house.

It's a madhouse.

Now this,

"Wanted for murder.

Erique Claudio,

"former violinist

at Paris Opera House.

"Age, 48 years, height 5'8.

"The face has recently

been disfigured by acid."

It's an outrage.

After 20 years

with the Paris Opera,

this miserable Claudio has the

insolence to commit a murder.

After 20 years with the Paris

Opera, a man is capable

of

anything, my dear Amiot.

Come in.

Come in, come in!

Monsieur, there is

a thief in the Opera House.

Thief?

A costume has been stolen.

And two masks.

That's impossible.

That fool of

a wardrobe woman

must have lost them.

She should have been

dismissed long ago.

She's much too fat.

That's not all. The thief has

broken into the restaurant.

The restaurant?

Yes, monsieur.

There's missing a...

There's missing...

There's missing a bucket of

pickled pigs' feet in vinegar,

a ham,

and a pat.

Call the police at once.

This must be stopped!

Yes, monsieur.

Monsieur, I'm afraid

the police can't stop that.

It's he.

Who?

Please, don't start that

nonsense again, Vercheres.

At your age, you ought to know

that there aren't any ghosts.

Monsieur, you are skeptical,

but I don't like ghosts.

I'm a busy man.

What's that?

Our brilliant stage

manager insists there's

a malicious ghost

prowling about the Opera.

If anything goes wrong, he thinks

this ghost did it!

Oh, Monsieur.

It has a long nose

and a big red beard.

You make me nervous!

It's gone.

Did you hear that, Lecours?

My master key is gone.

Do you realize what

that means, Lecours?

With that key in

his possession,

the thief can

open 2,500 doors!

To say nothing of thousands

of closets and cabinets.

Perhaps the pickled pigs' feet

will kill him.

Oh, you don't

seem to understand.

Why, he can hide everywhere.

The entire police force

couldn't find him here.

You don't seem to realize the

extent of this place, Lecours.

You have never taken

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