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Oscar takes the train back to London and starts asking around about Roby.
A person buying a book mentions that Randolph Carter had known Roby, and the next morning he can set up some time to talk to him.
Huh, wasn't that the guy Terrence talked to at the party? He seemed a bit much. But that's like 40% of his customers; he has a lot of experience in this area.
"Thank you. I don't think you do. But If I'm going crazy because I read a book that's terrible for my shop and my family and. You know about how I got sent to prison, right?"
"I heard a bit about that. Didn't mean to scare you. I really don't think you're crazy. ...I was gonna ask about your dreams, if you wanted to talk about that still, but I get it if you don't. Promise I won't try to offer any more solutions if you just want to vent."
"I had a couple dreams about the King in Yellow. Or, I guess, one where I was playing in an orchestra. Violin. All the other players had just broken loose. And the conductor pointed at me and I saw my sheet music just had the Yellow Sign. It was wriggling like a centipede and I knew those were our directions. I still remember the feel of the dream. It was horrible."
"Some of it, yeah. ...After I finished I had another, kind of medievalist dream you could say, about being on a moor. I don't spend a lot of time out there but in the dream, everything was oddly clear-- and there was a falconer named Hastur."
"It's fine. They're dreams, after all, we're not going to remember them perfectly or make perfect sense of them."
"Right. Thanks for listening, Sal, I owe you a book or something... Promise me you won't read Der Wanderer."
"I absolutely promise you that." He smiles. "Promise me you won't read The King in Yellow."
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