8
Two hours later Ellie had taken to pacing, gesturing with her hands as she spoke aloud to herself, discussing the situation while the bemused men watched her. She had paid neither of them much attention, diving right into the mystery as soon as she was able to comprehend the basics of what they were looking for. Indy had forgone a catnap, informing Rory that he seemed to have gotten a second wind.
"A second wind that smells like Guerlain Fleur De Feu?"
The archaeologist shot him the evil eye. He was likely twice Ellie's age, and would admit only under torture that yes, he found her fascinating to watch.
"I'm sorry," she told them yet again, facing them so they could see she was no longer speaking to herself. "It just looks like a list of freeform thoughts. Like a psychiatry test. If I say apple, what's the first word that comes into your mind?"
"Cheeks?" answered Rory.
"The question was merely demonstrative of the sort of test I was referring to," she told him with a smile.
"Then perhaps I do need a psychiatrist more than I do a priest," he muttered, looking down at the floor.
"A priest?" Miss Welsh queried.
"He thinks these lists are somehow related to dreams," Indy clarified.
"I was told to locate Henry Jones, Sr.'s dream journal."
"Doctor," Indy reminded him sternly.
Ellie asked, "Then how do you know these papers are what you were seeking?"
"I was told it would look like a list of words with similar words listed near each entry."
"This is all so vague," the young woman lamented. "And for whom do you work, Mr. McKenna?"
"Heh," he said uneasily. "I've never met him."
Ellie Welsh looked confused.
"If we had someone who studies dreams look at them," Indy began, "maybe they could help us find some clue as to what my father was thinking when he wrote this."
"I have a cousin who works…in a facility of sorts…that has something to do with dreams…."
"Pretty vague," Rory teased. "The papers are yours, Doctor Jones. Do you want to keep trying to see what they reveal?"
Indy asked, "What happens if you return empty-handed?"
"Ah, well, in some cases they find somebody else to do the job."
"Better the devil I know," Jones muttered. "Ellie, would your cousin be willing to take a look at this stuff?"
"The thing is," she said thoughtfully, pushing her lower lip upward with a knuckle so she could seize a bit of it between her teeth, "I'm not too sure he'd be able to make sense of this…so much as maybe someone he works with could."
"Could you contact him?"
She looked at her watch. "I can certainly try. Where is your telephone?"
Rory glanced toward the mantel. "Is that right? It's nearly four in the morning?"
"I hope he hasn't left work early," the girl said as she trailed Dr. Jones.