Somewhat hesitantly (for he was aware as he said it how strangely it sounded) Mr Segundus said, “I have seen you, sir, in my dream, I think.”

This only enraged Strange more. “The dream, sir, was mine! I lay down on purpose to dream it. I can bring proofs, witnesses that the dream was mine. Mr Woodhope,” he indicated his companion, “saw me do it. Mr Woodhope is a clergyman – the rector of a parish in Gloucestershire – I cannot imagine that his word could be doubted! I am rather of the opinion that in England a gentleman’s dreams are his own private concern. I fancy there is a law to that effect and, if there is not, why, Parliament should certainly be made to pass one immediately! It ill becomes another man to invite himself into them.” Strange paused to take breath.

“Sir!” cried Mr Honeyfoot hotly. “I must beg you to speak to this gentleman with more respect. You have not the good fortune to know this gentleman as I do, but should you have that honour you will learn that nothing is further from his character than a wish to offend others.”

Strange made a sort of exclamation of exasperation.

“It is certainly very odd that people should get into each other’s dreams,” said Henry Woodhope. “Surely it cannot really have been the same dream?”

“Oh! But I fear it is,” said Mr Segundus with a sigh. “Ever since I entered this garden I have felt as if it were full of invisible doors and I have gone through them one after the other, until I fell asleep and dreamt the dream where I saw this gentleman. I was in a greatly confused state of mind. I knew it was not me that had set these doors ajar and made them to open, but I did not care. I only wanted to see what was at the end of them.”

Henry Woodhope gazed at Mr Segundus as if he did not entirely understand this. “But I still think it cannot be the same dream, you know,” he explained to Mr Segundus, as if to a rather stupid child. “What did you dream of?”

“Of a lady in a blue gown,” said Mr Segundus. “I supposed that it was Miss Absalom.”

“Well, of course, it was Miss Absalom!” cried Strange in great exasperation as if he could scarcely bear to hear any thing so obvious mentioned. “But unfortunately the lady’s appointment was to meet one gentleman. She was naturally disturbed to find two and so she promptly disappeared.” Strange shook his head. “There cannot be more than five men in England with any pretensions to magic, but one of them must come here and interrupt my meeting with Absalom’s daughter. I can scarcely believe it. I am the unluckiest man in England. God knows I have laboured long enough to dream that dream. It has taken me three weeks – working night and day! – to prepare the spells of summoning, and as for the …”