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Ultimately, with my heap of papers close by, I again went over the apparition’s tremendous area, the colossal structure which he had made his realm. All that my eyes saw, all that my psyche saw, validated the Persian’s reports correctly; and a great disclosure delegated my works in an exceptionally positive style. It will be recalled that, later, when delving in the base of the Opera, prior to covering the phonographic records of the craftsman’s voice, the laborers uncovered a cadaver. Indeed, I was without a moment’s delay ready to demonstrate that this body was that of the Opera phantom. I made the acting-supervisor put this evidence under a magnifying glass with his own hand; and it is presently a matter of preeminent lack of concern to me if the papers imagine that the body was that of a survivor of the Commune. Gnome peace love autism all over printed 3D hoodie.  The knaves who were slaughtered, under the Commune, in the basements of the Opera, were not covered on this side; I will tell where their skeletons can be found in a spot not a long way from that massive tomb which was loaded during the attack with a wide range of arrangements. I happened upon this track exactly when I was searching for the remaining parts of the Opera apparition, which I ought to never have found yet for the incomprehensible possibility depicted previously.

In any case, we will get back to the cadaver and how should be managed it. For the present, I should close this essential presentation by saying thanks to M. Mifroid (who was the store of police brought in for the main examinations after the vanishing of Christine Daae), M. Remy, the late secretary, M. Mercier, the late acting-chief, M. Gabriel, the late chorale expert, and all the more especially Mme. la Baronne de Castelot-Barbezac, who was before the “little Meg” of the story (and who isn’t embarrassed about it), the most beguiling star of our excellent corps de artful dance, the oldest girl of the commendable Mme. Giry, presently expired, who had charge of the phantom’s private box. All these were of the best help to me; and, gratitude to them, I will have the option to replicate those long stretches of sheer love and dread, in their littlest subtleties, before the peruser’s eyes. Also, I ought to be careless undoubtedly in the event that I excluded, while remaining on the limit of this ghastly and veracious story, to thank the current administration the Opera, which has so sympathetically helped me altogether my requests, and M. Messager specifically, along with M. Gabion, the acting-director, and that generally agreeable of men, the designer intrusted with the conservation of the structure, who didn’t stop for a second to loan me crafted by Charles Garnier, in spite of the fact that he was practically certain that I could stay away forever them to him. In conclusion, I should honor the liberality of my companion and previous partner, M. J. Le Croze, who permitted me to plunge into his stunning dramatic library and to get the most extraordinary releases of books by which he set incredible store.