The next day Erik didn't want to know if the flowers and the envelope were back in the dressing room, or if there was nothing. The day after that, either. He watched the ballet rehearsal time sitting in the opera seats during his break from the choir. He didn't know how to name what he felt. Should he feel something? The anonymous person would certainly resent him, and Erik didn't blame him even if it was a misunderstanding. Maybe that little accident was for the best.

At the end of rehearsals, Meg sat next to him in one of the red velvet-wrapped chairs and put a finger in the frown between his brows: "When you frown like this it means that you are holding back a thought a lot. I've known you since I was five years old, Erik. What are you thinking about?" He sigh. And although Meg might not be the best confidante, or the person to whom it would be correct to talk about sensitive topics, he told her about his practices in the haunted dressing room, his secret admirer who left him flowers and notes in an envelope and the accident with them by Sorelli.

Meg was nodding her head and putting a hand to her chin: "With my help we can find him. If he is an admirer of yours it means that he must have a great appreciation for you. You just have to be attentive to the demonstrations." and with that, Meg helped him to create a list of the people from the opera. She discarded Carlotta, that she would prefer a thousand times to send herself flowers. She discarded Piangi, who preferred to send Carlotta flowers rather than someone else. Fonta? Fonta was the main baritone. They both thought. Discarded. Fonta was a direct, honest and upright man at all times. They couldn't imagine him doing something so sneaky for Erik.

Of the forty-three people, not counting firefighters and people working offstage, they narrowed down a handful possible suspects. A choir member, two ballet rats, the lead stagehand's assistant, and Sorelli, who was most likely hiring someone inside the opera to run that errand.

Another way to find the secret admirer was by recognizing the handwriting, Erik told Meg. But he hadn't taken the notes with him, so he could only recognize the handwriting if he saw it again. The next day, Meg managed to obtain an order receipt for ballet shoes, where each member had to write their own name. Erik went through the handwritings without success. None, nor did the handwriting of the suspects match on those written on the notes in the haunted dressing room. Meg didn't stay with her arms crossed, and turning in her tutu went to talk to those two members to find out, in the middle of a distraction, if any of them were interested in Erik.

He for his part went to have a little talk with his partner in the choir. After a little chat, among other things, he told her that he could write her name in russian, if she wrote it to him on paper. She took the pencil and wrote her name. That was not the calligraphy he was looking for. Anyway, he wrote her name in russian and she smiled at him.

In the middle of her conversation with him he thought about the possibility that his secret admirer was writing with his left hand, or the one that he did not use regularly, to write the notes, explaining the handwriting being so uneven, crooked and horrible. He suppressed a sigh when he felt a headache hit him, and after another minor conversation, he was about to say goodbye when a woman's scream rang out throught the opera and choked as fell to the ground.

Erik's heart clenched; the scream came from box number five. Meg yelled "It's Jammes!" And Erik, being the closest to the exit, ran from the corridor, climbed the stairs and turned right into the corridor of boxes. On the carpet, Jammes was lying on her back unconscious. On her chest, a black cat with a bristling tail stared at him in horror. As Erik ran towards her, the cat fled in terror. He picked up the body of Jammes whose half was inside. He took a brief look at the box; It was extremely dark and it smelled strange. Heavy air like withered vegetation flooded and made him grind his teeth in disgust. He shut the door as best he could and saw the others running to help Jammes in his arms.

"She is passed out! Bring aromatic salts! Get away! Give her some air!" The usher who was supplying Madame Giry that day shouted. Erik led Jammes to the entrance of the opera and sat her on the base of a statue, while a dancer held her in her arms and placed the salts close on her nose. Meg came running up and checked Jammes and Erik. "What would Jammes do in box five?!" At that moment, a man in his thirties took him by the arm and asked him to follow him. Not before seeing Meg with a dubious look, he followed him down the stairs to the base of the opera under the stage.

"You are Erik? The new member of the choir, right? What did you see? What did you see in the box number five?" the man with the mustache and brown hair looked at him pale and trembling.
"Yes, I'm Erik. I ... I didn't see anything. When I arrived Jammes was passed out on the floor, half of her body in the box, with a bristling black cat on her chest."
"And after that?"
"I picked her up in my arms. Upon entering the box there was a smell-"
"To withered flowers, humidity and myrrh."
"Yes. It was. Then I just closed the door."

The man put a hand to his chin. "She was there. The Bride was there. But why Jammes Louise?"
Erik began to make connections. "Are you Joseph Buquet? The head of the stagehands?"
"I am. The chief stagehand and the buffoon of the firemen and the opera staff, unfortunately for me. No one believes me! No one believes the danger in which we are at her mercy!"
"Have you seen her? The Bride of the opera?"
"I've seen her! And not only have I seen her, she killed my friend! The choir member you're filling in!"
Erik swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly very bitter. "I'm so sorry."
"If you're sorry, please just don't call me crazy. The firefighters say it was an accident, but i'm sure that it wasn't and no one believes me. A murder can't be an accident!. They'll only believe me when she kills me too."

Erik had imagined Joseph Buquet as an obsessed and frustrated man, but the image of the man before him was that of a broken man, very shy and with much anxiety on his shoulders. Meg yelled up the stairs: "Erik! Jammes woke up! She's asking for you!"
"May I speak to you about this later?" Buquet raised a trembling look at him with reddish lids.
"I supervise down here before they close, you can come if you are interested."
"Thanks" Erik waved goodbye and followed Meg's path.

In the ballet dressing rooms, Jammes found herself surrounded by curious rats. She looked at him with a big smile.
"Erik! Thank you so much for rescuing me! You are very brave for rescuing me from the haunted box!" The dancers turned to see him, murmured among themselves and laughed. He tried to ignore them "I'm glad you're feeling better, it was nothing."
"Jammes, what were you doing in the box number five?" Faye asked from a distance.
"Oh, you see," with her eyes to the ceiling, Jammes remembered "I was looking for Chérie to give her pieces of chicken, I was going up the stairs when the director Debienne ran up so fast that it scared my Chérie and ran to the hall of the boxes. The door to the haunted box was half open and it was the only place she could have entered. I put the saucer down and went carefully in to look for my poor chérie."

Jammes brought her little hands up and shaking her head, continued "Oh! You won't believe me! But, everything was dark. I was a few steps from the door and I start to smell something strange, a very heavy air. I felt weak, and I saw how the green eyes of my Chérie looked at me reflecting the light from the corridor. As Chérie's fur is black, it was camouflaged in the darkness of the box. It was then, oh! I see the eyes of my Chérie float, it rose to the height of my head and I screamed!. At that moment I lost my breath and everything went black; I felt something hit my chest and I fell to the carpet. Speaking of Chérie, have you seen my Chérie?"

Jammes got up as if nothing had happened and went to look for her cat. Erik leaving the room, saw the figure of Joseph walking away. Joseph sure had heard the story of Jammes and therefore would attribute it to the Bride of the opera.