He then turned his attention to Nightspore, who endured his operation
with grim indifference. Krag threw the knife on the floor.

An awful agony, emanating from the wound, started to run through
Maskull's body, and he began to doubt whether he would not have to
faint, but it subsided almost immediately, and then he felt nothing
but a gnawing ache in the injured arm, just strong enough to make
life one long discomfort.

"That's finished," said Krag. "Now you can follow me."

Picking up the lantern, he walked toward the door. The others
hastened after him, to take advantage of the light, and a moment
later their footsteps, clattering down the uncarpeted stairs,
resounded through the deserted house. Krag waited till they were
out, and then banged the front door after them with such violence
that the windows shook.

While they were walking swiftly across to the tower, Maskull caught
his arm. "I heard a voice up those stairs."

"What did it say?"

"That I am to go, but Nightspore is to return."

Krag smiled. "The journey is getting notorious," he remarked, after
a pause. "There must be ill-wishers about.... Well, do you want to
return?"