"Sitting in the dark?" he said self-consciously, pushing his head
inside, and hanging up his lantern on the ridge-pole 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.
"Sangree is," replied the clergyman, in a voice equally low. "I can't
answer for the women; I think they're sitting up."
"That's for the best." And then he added: "I wish the fog would thin a
bit and let the moon through; later--we may want it.
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