“I’ll pay for them,” said the hermit drowsily.

“You don’t have any money!” I said, and then wished I’d bitten my tongue.

“Never mind. I’ll pay for them,” snapped Old Tom. “If we’re all well enough to be arguing about who’s paying for the underwear, we’re all well enough to skedaddle a little faster before the soldiers come.”

And then we split up, Miss Macy and the hermit through the woods, and Old Tom and I back to the coastal path and our house, trying to move quickly and yet look casual in case we were spotted. Twice we saw foot patrols bursting through the woods to head toward where the plane landed. Fortunately none of them passed close enough to see us squatting for cover when we heard them, and we hoped none of them ran into Miss Macy and the hermit but had no way of knowing. It was all very wearing.

But once back at the house, it became more wearing because we had to plan what to do next. I pulled Sina into the hallway and we related everything that had occurred so far to her and the Madden children, whom she had had to kick out of Mr. Madden’s bedroom earlier to keep him from seeing them and coming into the here and now. It seemed to me the whole night was about getting some people into the here and now and keeping others from it. Currently it was a matter of getting Flying Bob out of the house and up island.

“We can’t use Miss Macy now,” said Old Tom. “Whoever has the car accident with Flying Bob is going to have a ton of reporters and military converging on them. If Miss Macy is going to hide the hermit, we can’t use her for the car accident. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why does anyone have to hide the hermit?” asked Winifred. “Why can’t he just go back to his cabin?”