"Don't carry on so," Burton said. "You would have thought of it!"

"It is not military work," the Frenchman said, as if that explained it.

Aphra went into the corridor with Burton. "How do we get out now?"

"The bricks are ordinary ones, made of clay."

Behn pointed at his beamer and looked at him. Burton nodded.

"Then how will that keep him ... the Snark ... out?"

"It won't."

He looked at his wristwatch. "We've much to do yet."

Aphra shook her head and said, "I just don't know what you have in mind."

"You'll see. In time."

He took a stepladder, set it up by the corner of the brick wall and began spraying. When he had worked down to the door of the laboratory, having painted ceiling, walls and floor of the corridor, he looked inside. The power cables connected to the bases of the two mobile converters had been disconnected, and the cabinets had been shoved onto the painted floor. The bare areas beneath were sprayed, and his co-workers were leaning against a wall and drinking water. Aphra Behn was also smoking a cigar.

"As soon as you're rested," Burton said, "come help me paint the corridor."

When de Marbot came out, he stopped, his eyes widening.

"Sacred blue! You have painted the brick wall!"

"Yes," Burton said. "The bricks seem to be just clay. I broke one open to examine it. But it's possible that the Snark inserted some conductive material in it. I want to make sure that he can't see us through it."

"Not very likely," de Marbot said.

"We take no chances."

"Ah, you bloody British! No wonder that we lost the war."

De Marbot was not sincere. He maintained, furiously and with great conviction and many facts, that it was the mistakes and errors of Napoleon's marshals—and a few by the Corsican—that had caused the downfall of the empire. If his brave countrymen had been led by men who always made the right decisions, they would have been unbeatable.

Burton, so far, had refrained from pointing out that the same might be said for any army.

By the time that they had spray-painted the corridor and Loga's room, it was 5:00 a.m.

The light and air from the wall material and vents had been cut off, but the lamps and air generator replaced these.

De Marbot said, "Voild! C'est fini! I think."

"You think incorrectly," Burton said. "Now we move the largest converter into the secret room."

This was done by shoving the cabinet with a flying chair, Burton standing by the chair and operating the controls. The task took ten minutes, and the top and sides of the converter scraped against the round entrance. Having, the day before, measured the dimensions of the cabinet and of the doorway, Burton knew that it would be a tight but workable fit. When he had maneuvered the cabinet from the laboratory and into the secret room, he connected the cable to the power inlet of the cabinet.

Aphra Behn said, "You've covered the area that detects the entrance codeword. What do you plan to do if you want to get in again? Or will you leave the door open?"

"The paint can be easily scraped away over the area if it's necessary," Burton said.

The Frenchman gestured at the walls. "Everything is impenetrable. The Snark can no longer see or hear us. May we be permitted to know what you intend to do now?"

The light from the lamps on the floor drew heavy shadows on their faces and made them look like masks. The masks of tired and desperate people. The blue eyes of de Marbot and Behn, however, seemed to shine with an unflagging light. Their wills were not weary.

"The power line to the converter is tapped in to the main power line," Burton said. "But it is not in the Computer's schematic files, and any power through it is not recorded by the Computer. Not, that is, unless the Snark has changed things. We can make whatever we wish, and the Snark won't have the slightest idea of what we're doing. He'll know we're up to something, and he'll be concerned about it. But he can't find out what it is unless he comes down here. He'll have to investigate personally."

"That ain't so," Aphra said. "He could send androids."

"If he's sentient, that is, human, he'll be as curious as a monkey. He'll want to look into this himself."

"Perhaps."

"Did you tell the others anything?" de Marbot said.

"No. I didn't feel it was necessary."

The Frenchman looked at his wristwatch.

"In about two and a half hours, some of our companions will be meeting for breakfast. You're always there. Won't they look for you?"

"Probably. And they won't find me. Eventually, they'll know that you two have disappeared, too."

"They'll think the Snark took us!" Aphra said. "They'll be very worried."

"It'll shake them from their lethargy," Burton said. "They won't be bored, at least."

"That's a little cruel," Aphra said.

"And they'll come looking for us," de Marbot said.

"There's not much chance they'll find us," Burton said. "Not when they have thirty-five thousand, seven hundred and ninety-three rooms to search."

"But they can use the Computer, it'll scan for them. And when it reports ..."

He stopped, smiled, and said, "Ah, I see. The Snark may, probably will, prevent the Computer from telling them where we are."

"They'll be searching for us, and the Snark will have to keep tabs on them," Burton said. "I hope they'll provide some distraction for him."

"Yes, but," Aphra said, "they could have done the same thing if you told them to do so, and they wouldn't be upset about our being missing."

"The fewer know about us, the better. If they truly believe we're missing, they won't be acting. I'm not sure that the Snark wouldn't detect their insincerity. After all, he can read their voices for emotion and scan their wathans. He could tell if they're pretending."

"It's like fighting God," Aphra said.

"You said that," Burton said. "And I told you that the Snark is not God. Even if he was, I'd give him a run for his money."

"Morbleu," de Marbot said. "What if he doesn't come? What if he just lets us sit here like rats in a self-made trap? What then?"

"You can see a rat in a trap. He can't see us."

They were silent for a while. They had painted themselves into a dark corner, but they had all they needed to wait there for as long as they could endure it. There was a toilet in Loga's room and several in the laboratory. They could use the converter in .Loga's hideaway to make food or whatever they wished. The converter was now tied in with a small auxiliary computer unconnected to the main one.

Seven o'clock came. Their conversation was infrequent and uninspired. The silence, the lighting, which seemed strange and' unnatural after the shadowless illumination, and the waiting for something to happen wore on them. At seven-thirty, Burton suggested to the other two that they eat breakfast. They could sleep on the big bed while he stood guard.

At eight o'clock, the two decided that they would eat and then rest. Breakfast was provided by the converter in Loga's room. Burton ate lightly; he did not want to be sluggish if quick action was required. De Marbot and Behn got into the bed, but the Frenchman said, "I do not feel right sleeping. You might need me."

"It's all right," Burton said. "You're a light sleeper. Besides, I don't really expect the Snark to do anything for a long while."

"But you do not know."

"Right."

Burton went back to his station by the entrance to the secret room. Sleepy, afraid that he might nod off, he began pacing back and forth close to the doorway. He did not know if anything would happen but, if it did, it would be to his advantage. Whatever did come, it would probably be unexpected.

Perhaps he was acting senselessly, stupidly. Still, it was better than doing nothing at all. If he were the unknown, would he be able to just let the unobserved three stay behind the walls? Would he not wonder what they were doing? Would he not try to think of everything they could possibly do? Wouldn't he even ask the Computer to run off a list of everything that could be done?