"I should imagine that it belonged to some vintner or maltster in the
Middle Ages," said I. "I have seen in England leathern drinking
flagons of the seventeenth century--'black jacks' as they were
called--which were of the same colour and hardness as this filler." "I dare say the date would be about the same," said Dacre, "and, no
doubt, also, it was used for filling a vessel with liquid. If my
suspicions are correct, however, it was a queer vintner who used it,
and a very singular cask which was filled. Do you observe nothing
strange at the spout end of the funnel." As I held it to the light I observed that at a spot some five inches
above the brass tip the narrow neck of the leather funnel was all
haggled and scored, as if someone had notched it round with a blunt
knife. Only at that point was there any roughening of the dead black
surface. "Someone has tried to cut off the neck." "Would you call it a cut?" "It is torn and lacerated. It must have taken some strength to leave
these marks on such tough material, whatever the instrument may have
been. But what do you think of it? I can tell that you know more than
you say." Dacre smiled, and his little eyes twinkled with knowledge. "Have you included the psychology of dreams among your learned
studies?" he asked. "I did not even know that there was such a psychology." "My dear sir, that shelf above the gem case is filled with volumes,
from Albertus Magnus onward, which deal with no other subject. It is a
science in itself." "A science of charlatans!" "The charlatan is always the pioneer. From the astrologer came the
astronomer, from the alchemist the chemist, from the mesmerist the
experimental psychologist. The quack of yesterday is the professor of
tomorrow. Even such subtle and elusive things as dreams will in time
be reduced to system and order. When that time comes the researches of
our friends on the bookshelf yonder will no longer be the amusement of
the mystic, but the foundations of a science." "Supposing that is so, what has the science of dreams to do with a
large, black, brass-rimmed funnel?" "I will tell you. You know that I have an agent who is always on the
look-out for rarities and curiosities for my collection. Some days ago
he heard of a dealer upon one of the Quais who had acquired some old
rubbish found in a cupboard in an ancient house at the back of the Rue
Mathurin, in the Quartier Latin. The dining-room of this old house is
decorated with a coat of arms, chevrons, and bars rouge upon a field
argent, which prove, upon inquiry, to be the shield of Nicholas de la
Reynie, a high official of King Louis XIV. There can be no doubt that
the other articles in the cupboard date back to the early days of that
king. The inference is, therefore, that they were all the property of
this Nicholas de la Reynie, who was, as I understand, the gentleman
specially concerned with the maintenance and execution of the Draconic
laws of that epoch." "What then?" "I would ask you now to take the funnel into your hands once more and
to examine the upper brass rim. Can you make out any lettering upon
it?" There were certainly some scratches upon it, almost obliterated by
time. The general effect was of several letters, the last of which
bore some resemblance to a B. "You make it a B?" "Yes, I do." "So do I. In fact, I have no doubt whatever that it is a B." "But the nobleman you mentioned would have had R for his initial." "Exactly! That's the beauty of it. He owned this curious object, and
yet he had someone else's initials upon it. Why did he do this?" "I can't imagine; can you?" "Well, I might, perhaps, guess. Do you observe something drawn a
little farther along the rim?" "I should say it was a crown." "It is undoubtedly a crown; but if you examine it in a good light, you
will convince yourself that it is not an ordinary crown. It is a
heraldic crown--a badge of rank, and it consists of an alternation of
four pearls and strawberry leaves, the proper badge of a marquis. We
may infer, therefore, that the person whose initials end in B was
entitled to wear that coronet." "Then this common leather filler belonged to a marquis?" Dacre gave a peculiar smile. "Or to some member of the family of a marquis," said he. "So much we
have clearly gathered from this engraved rim." "But what has all this to do with dreams?" I do not know whether it
was from a look upon Dacre's face, or from some subtle suggestion in
his manner, but a feeling of repulsion, of unreasoning horror, came
upon me as I looked at the gnarled old lump of leather. "I have more than once received important information through my
dreams," said my companion in the didactic manner which he loved to
affect. "I make it a rule now when I am in doubt upon any material
point to place the article in question beside me as I sleep, and to
hope for some enlightenment. The process does not appear to me to be
very obscure, though it has not yet received the blessing of orthodox
science. According to my theory, any object which has been intimately
associated with any supreme paroxysm of human emotion, whether it be
joy or pain, will retain a certain atmosphere or association which it
is capable of communicating to a sensitive mind. By a sensitive mind I
do not mean an abnormal one, but such a trained and educated mind as
you or I possess." "You mean, for example, that if I slept beside that old sword upon the
wall, I might dream of some bloody incident in which that very sword
took part?" "An excellent example, for, as a matter of fact, that sword was used in
that fashion by me, and I saw in my sleep the death of its owner, who
perished in a brisk skirmish, which I have been unable to identify, but
which occurred at the time of the wars of the Frondists. If you think
of it, some of our popular observances show that the fact has already
been recognized by our ancestors, although we, in our wisdom, have
classed it among superstitions." "For example?" "Well, the placing of the bride's cake beneath the pillow in order that
the sleeper may have pleasant dreams. That is one of several instances
which you will find set forth in a small brochure which I am myself
writing upon the subject. But to come back to the point, I slept one
night with this funnel beside me, and I had a dream which certainly
throws a curious light upon its use and origin." "What did you dream?" "I dreamed----" He paused, and an intent look of interest came over his
massive face. "By Jove, that's well thought of," said he. "This really
will be an exceedingly interesting experiment. You are yourself a
psychic subject--with nerves which respond readily to any impression." "I have never tested myself in that direction." "Then we shall test you tonight. Might I ask you as a very great
favour, when you occupy that couch tonight, to sleep with this old
funnel placed by the side of your pillow?"