“Exactly. Five notes.”
I stared at the bundle in my hand, and then up at Chaunt.
“O-o-o-o!” I exclaimed.
He uttered a loud ironic laugh. “Well,” he said: “what does ‘b a c e f d e c a d e c’ spell?”
I scratched my nose. “You tell me, please.”
“O Jerusalem!” he cried, and took his pencil to the line, thus: b a c | e f | d e | c a d e | c—
“Well?” he said again.
I shook my head.
He positively stamped. “Listen here,” he cried: “ ‘bac ef de cad-e c’—don’t you see?”
“No.”