Then, little by little, as nothing happens, he grows concerned. He looks around and evidently sees nothing, hears nothing. Neith, recalling her recent moment of midnight fear and the image of Lönnrot’s hand reaching out to her from the mirror, feels a spasm of sympathy. Smith, too, seems to be having that unpleasant mammalian response to silence and occlusion: the itchy and unwelcome sense of an invisible watcher.