The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

Chapter 43

***Chapter XLIII***

Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without words
And never stops at all.

~ Emily Dickinson

xXx

.

"Is it not more dangerous to go above than it is to stay?" Madame's firm, quiet voice answered Raoul, reminding him of her presence. For a moment, he had forgotten she and the boy were there.

He looked her way. She stared back, her eyes wary, full of silent warning, briefly flickering to Meg, then back to him. He could only assume she was less than pleased by his action in soothing Meg, but he had more important matters to consider than a mother's disapproval.

"Others have found this place before tonight. I tried to be as cautious as possible under the circumstances, but I cannot swear that I wasn't followed." He turned to Meg. "You spoke of an exit from this place, the one Christine's husband took that night."

She blinked, clearly shocked by his casual reference to the man he'd hunted for months.

"Oui. A tunnel - hidden beyond this chamber." She motioned behind the bed to an opening between rocks. "I found him there after you took Christine away to safety. If you turn left where it branches, the tunnel comes out upon the lake again, and if you follow the lake eastward, it takes you far past the opera house and to the fringes of the city, near the water's edge."

He nodded, satisfied. "Then that shall be our method of escape as well. Jean-Claude, help me with the boat." Not wanting to delay a moment longer, knowing the night would help cloak them in secrecy, Raoul rose from the bed and strode into the main chamber with purpose, the boy following.

Meg picked up the chunk of bread from the coverlet where she'd dropped it, but in her fearful excitement to take action and no longer hide she found she possessed no appetite for the barley.

Raoul and the boy strained to carry the gondola up the stairs leading to the bedchamber, moving past the bed, and disappearing into the tunnel. Meg craned her body around to watch.

"Madame," Raoul's voice came from the passage. "If you would be so good as to bring light."

Frowning, Mère stood and grabbed the nearest torch. She glanced at Meg but did not speak as Meg thought she might. She only whisked past and vanished into the tunnel.

Time seemed to crawl by.

Meg sat in a helpless flurry of anxious anticipation and worried impatience, certain someone should have returned for her by now and ready to attempt hopping across the stones and dragging her cast if need be. Raoul appeared in the opening at that moment, her mother holding the torch behind him. He approached Meg.

"Are you prepared for this?" he asked quietly as he hunched down by the bed. "The way is narrow, but not so much that I can't carry you. However, it might prove difficult to keep from jostling your leg."

Her leg was the least of her concerns at the moment. She nodded and held her arms out to him. After nearly six weeks the break no longer gave her pain, though the heavy cast was an encumbrance.

He scooped her up in his strong hold, and she wrapped an arm around his neck, gripping his shoulder with her other hand. Again she experienced the irony of feeling safe though they walked into extreme danger, perhaps more danger than she'd ever known in her life. Their eyes held for several heartbeats that made her breath catch. His head close to hers, he faintly nodded as if answering a plea she had yet to make then shifted his focus to the aperture between columns of craggy rock, moving to where her mother waited.