The House of Souls
by such stuff as that?' he asked, when he had stuttered out the jingle of once, and twice, and thrice.
Dyson had listened to it all gravely, even to the end, and meditated for a few minutes in silence.
'Yes,' he said at length, 'it was a curious chance, your taking shelter in that archway just as those two went by. But I don't know that I should call what was written on the paper nonsense; it is bizarre certainly, but I expect it has a meaning for somebody. Just repeat it again, will you, and I will write it down. Perhaps we might find a cipher of some sort, though I hardly think we shall.'
Again had the reluctant lips of Salisbury slowly to stammer out the rubbish that he abhorred, while Dyson jotted it down on a slip of paper.
'Look over it, will you?' he said, when it was done; 'it may be important that I should have every word in its place. Is that all right?'
'Yes; that is an accurate copy. But I don't think you will get much out of it. Depend upon it, it is mere nonsense, a wanton scribble. I must be going now, Dyson. No, no more; that stuff of yours is pretty strong. Good-night.'
'I suppose you would like to hear from me, if I did find out anything?'
'No, not I; I don't want to hear about the thing again. You may regard the discovery, if it is one, as your own.'
'Very well. Good-night.'
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