He made his way to the foggy gate, drew bolt and chain from the left wicket. A young man stepped through.
"Losh, mon," he remarked with a Yankee accent, "it's a fearful nicht to be abroad."
"Come on in," said McKay, re-locking the wicket. "This way; follow me."
They went by the kitchen garden and servants' hall, and so through to the staircase hall, where McKay struck a match and Sixty-seven instantly blew it out.
"Better not," he said. "There are vermin about."
McKay stood silent, probably surprised. Then he called softly in the darkness:
"Seventy-seven!"
"Je suis la!" came her voice from the stairs.
"It's all right," he said, "it's one of our men. No use sittin' up if you're sleepy." He listened but did not hear Miss Erith stir.
"Better return to bed," he said again, and guided Sixty-seven into the room on the left.