"It comes from off there."
Dr. Alton frowned, less from irritation than from fear that this foolish utterance of his son might be the forerunner of some future spiritualistic obsession—or other mental derangement.
But he spoke gently. "Whose house do you think it is?"
"Oh, I don't know at all! It comes from way off—way off! It's in the air; not a loud sound, like somebody near. More like a—like a—breath."
"What does it say?"
"It says—it says—oh, I dunno. It isn't words."
"Then how do you know they want me?"
"It wants us both. It wants me too."
Dr. Alton smiled. "Do they want your help as another doctor?"
But Cyrus did not return the smile. He obviously regarded the message with a certain solemnity—and awe. Again he closed his eyes and again turned up his face.