That’s where Stig died.

But he held his tongue, said John. And Peter stood up with solemnity, as only he could do.

Thank you, Stig. For holding your tongue. So that we should not find ourselves on our way in the next time.

Henry ponders this. He is filled with gratitude towards Stig. But then the thought comes: How would you have managed? And there may be a question of that within the next hour. They are at your mercy.

He has been standing here for a brief moment, with his back to the door, thinking these thoughts, when he notices that the door is starting to move. Is there a guard here too? He leaps to one side and into the dark passages. These are unfamiliar to him as well. Narrow and confusing. A maze.

But there he pauses once more.

A sound has stopped him.

Something seems to be happening to him, and it is because he is able to sense such a sound. Here, where it is usually so silent and stifling and apparently deserted – here this amazing sound can be heard. On the edge of the abyss.

It is coming from one of the walls in the maze. No, not from one of them, but from all directions, from all the walls, when he listens carefully and moves in among them. For this has nothing of fear or cruelty about it; it reminds one of peace on earth.

When he first notices it he does not understand what it is, but before long he tumbles to it. It is a fragile but thousandfold sound of sleeping: the incredibly fragile breathing of children asleep. Thousands and tens of thousands. It comes in slow waves, rising and falling. Small sounds but so endlessly many of them. It swells like a strong, flowing breaker, and then subsides once more. And rises again.

And Henry is standing there listening to it. This seems to be for him.

He is able to receive it. He has a faculty that his hardened, austere companions are lacking, but which must survive and be hidden safely away: a quality related to this revelation. That is why it is revealed to him.

He listens. The waves of sound pass through him. He cannot believe it is true, but it is.

Here, right beside the cruel centre, this survives as if nothing can put an end to it. The walls are closed but the sound goes out to him. He has a desire to open the doors and rush in but he cannot. He must stand here humbly and listen. How could I get in there? Listening to it seems to him like paradise.

What is that?

He can see somebody appearing out of the dimness, now his eyes are used to it. From old habit he flattens himself against the wall. A woman is approaching him, and since she is a stranger to Henry he goes up to her to tell her what he can hear.