“Sitting in the dark?” he said self-consciously, pushing his head inside, and hanging up his lantern on the ridgepole nail. “I just looked in for a smoke. I suppose⁠—”

He glanced round, caught the eye of Dr. Silence, and stopped. He put his pipe back into his pocket and began to hum softly⁠—that underbreath humming of a nondescript melody I knew so well and had come to hate.

Dr. Silence leaned forward, opened the lantern and blew the light out. “Speak low,” he said, “and don’t strike matches. Listen for sounds and movements about the Camp, and be ready to follow me at a moment’s notice.” There was light enough to distinguish our faces easily, and I saw Maloney glance again hurriedly at both of us.

“Is the Camp asleep?” the doctor asked presently, whispering.