DIE MITTERNACHTS-GAZETTE
“Whispers from the Gaslight”
Edition of August 6, 1952
Berlin awoke this morning to the delicious scent of scandal — and jasmine. While the Ministry hushes its lips tighter than a rivet, rumors swirl faster than steam in a ruptured pipe: a daring break-in has unsettled the very heart of our city.
At the stroke of three, while respectable citizens dreamt in their feather beds, a masked figure — elegant, swift, and decidedly feminine — is said to have waltzed past guards and gear-driven sentinels, tampering with locks that no ordinary burglar could hope to master. A velvet glove, perfumed and unmistakably delicate, was discovered near the scene, as if left behind on purpose, a calling card to taunt the authorities.
Witnesses whisper of the faint click of high heels echoing along marble floors, of a silhouette slipping like smoke through the lamplight. Some swear she vanished into the night aboard a steam carriage that sped down Unter den Linden before the Watch could give chase.
Who is this Velvet Phantom? An ordinary thief draped in silk? Or something altogether more perilous — an enchantress with designs not on gold or jewels, but on secrets? Her rumored connection to the opera world — and to certain powerful men seated in the Reich’s gilded boxes — only thickens the fog of speculation.
While the Ministry insists “nothing of importance was stolen,” our readers know better: when officials protest too much, there is always more beneath the brass-plated surface.
For now, Berlin society can only speculate: is the Velvet Phantom thief, spy, or avenger? One thing is certain — she has turned the city into her stage, and we, dear readers, are her captive audience.
—Filed by your devoted correspondent, “E.”
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Incident: Unauthorized Entry into a Secured Facility
Location: Confidential Government Repository, Unter den Linden District
Date: Previous night, between the 3rd and 4th hours past midnight
Status: Ongoing Investigation
In the earliest hours, while the city’s boilers slumbered and only the lamplighters kept watch, a breach was discovered within one of Berlin’s most carefully warded structures. The locks, wrought of iron and reinforced with copper cogs, had been undone not by brute force but by the hand of a most dexterous intruder. Witnesses report the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the corridor — though whether this is fact or embellishment remains unverified.
The assailant is said to have slipped past watchmen and clockwork sentinels alike, leaving behind no trace but the faint click of heels upon marble and a single velvet glove, abandoned near the service stair. Officials confirm that no artifacts of public importance were removed, though the nature of the targeted chamber remains classified.
The City Watch suspects the use of specialized implements — lock-turning picks concealed within jewelry or footwear, and smoke-dampening devices that masked movement within the corridors. Inquiries are being made into whether this marks the work of a lone professional or a wider network of conspirators.
Authorities caution citizens against speculation, though the press already whispers of a “Velvet Phantom,” a figure seen in opera houses and boulevards alike, who drifts between gaslight and shadow.
For now, the Watch reassures the public that order remains unbroken. Patrols have been doubled, steam carriages fitted with new whistles, and a full inquiry has been launched under the Ministry of Security.
The case continues.