suggested intellect, and his small, dark eyes, forever flickering as they took in the appearance of my person, the expression of my face, and the position of my hands and feet, ingenuity.
No pretense was apt to be of service with such a man, and I told him flatly that I had come as the emissary of Baron H——, that I knew what troubled him, and that if he would cooperate with me I would help him if I could.
“I know you, monsieur,” he said, “by reputation. A business with which I am associated employed you three years ago in the matter of a certain mummy.” He named the firm. “I should have thought of you myself.”
“I did not know that you were connected with them.”
“I am not, when you leave this room. I do not know what reward Baron H——has offered you should you apprehend the man who is oppressing me, but I will give you, in addition to that, a sum equal to what you were paid for the mummy. You should be able to retire to the south then, should you choose, with the rent of a dozen villas.”
“I do not choose,” I told him, “and I could have retired long before. But what you just said interests me. You are certain that your persecutor is a living man?”
“I know men.” Herr R——leaned back in his chair and stared at the painted ceiling. “As a boy I sold stuffed cabbage-leaf rolls in the street—did you know that? My mother cooked them over wood she collected herself where buildings were being demolished, and I sold them from a little cart for her. I lived to see her with half a score of footmen and the finest house in Lindau. I never went to school; I learned to add and subtract in the streets—when I must multiply and divide I have my clerk do it. But I learned men. Do you think that now, after forty years of practice, I could be deceived by a phantom? No, he is a man—let me confess it, a stronger man than I—a man of flesh and blood and brain, a man I have seen somewhere, sometime, here in this city, and more than once.”
“Describe him.”
“As tall as I. Younger—perhaps thirty or thirty-five. A brown, forked beard, so long.” (He held his hand about fifteen centimeters beneath his chin.) “Brown hair. His hair is not yet gray, but I think it may be thinning a little at the temples.”
“Don’t you remember?”
“In my dream he wears a garland of roses—I cannot be sure.”
“Is there anything else? Any scars or identifying marks?”
Herr R——nodded. “He has hurt his hand. In my dream, when he holds out his hand for the money, I see blood in it—it is his own, you understand, as though a recent injury had reopened and was beginning to bleed again. His hands are long and slender—like a pianist’s.”
“Perhaps you had better tell me your dream.”
“Of course.” He paused, and his face clouded, as though to recount the dream were to return to it. “I am in a great house. I am a person of importance there, almost as though I were the owner, yet I am not the owner —”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Does this house have a banquet hall? Has it a pillared portico, and is it set in a garden?”
For a moment Herr R——’s eyes widened. “Have you also had such dreams?”
“No,” I said. “It is only that I think I have heard of this house before. Please continue.”
“There are many servants—some work in the fields beyond the garden. I give instructions to them—the details differ each night, you understand. Sometimes I am concerned with the kitchen, sometimes with the livestock, sometimes with the draining of a field. We grow wheat, principally, it seems, but there is a vineyard too, and a kitchen garden. And of course the house itself must be cleaned and swept and kept in repair. There is no wife; the owner’s mother lives with us, I think, but she does not much concern herself with the housekeeping—that is up to me. To tell the truth, I have never actually seen her, though I have the feeling that she is there.”
“Does this house resemble the one you bought for your own mother in Lindau?”
“Only as one large house must resemble another.”
“I see. Proceed.”
“For a long time each night I continue like that, giving orders, and sometimes going over the accounts. Then a servant, usually it is a maid, arrives to tell me that the owner wishes to speak to me. I stand before a mirror—I can see myself there as plainly as I see you now—and arrange my clothing. The maid brings rosescented water and a cloth, and I wipe my face; then I go in to him.
“He is always in one of the upper rooms, seated at a table with his own account book spread before him. There is an open window behind him, and through it I can see the top of a cherry tree in bloom. For a long time—oh, I suppose ten minutes—I stand before him while he turns over the pages of his ledger.”
“You appear somewhat at a loss, Herr R——, not a common condition for you, I believe. What happens then?”
“He says, ‘You owe . . . ’” Herr R——paused. “That is the problem, monsieur, I can never recall the amount. But it is a large sum. He says, ‘And I must require that you make payment at once.’
“I do not have the amount, and I tell him so. He says, ‘Then you must leave my employment.’ I fall to my knees at this and beg that he will retain me, pointing out that if he dismisses me I will have lost my source of income and will never be able to make payment. I do not enjoy telling you this, but I weep. Sometimes I beat the floor with my fists.”
“Continue. Is the Dream-Master moved by your pleading?”
“No. He again demands that I pay the entire sum. Several times I have told him that I am a wealthy man in this world, and that if only he would permit me to make payment in its currency, I would do so immediately.”
“That is interesting—most of us lack your presence of mind in our nightmares. What does he say then?”
“Usually he tells me not to be a fool. But once he said, ‘That is a dream—you must know it by now. You cannot expect to pay a real debt with the currency of sleep.’ He holds out his hand for the money as he speaks to me. It is
