But when Maude and Oyzell stepped through the shadow cast by the gnomon, they stepped into another place, quite different from the leafy glade above Glen Glum, utterly different from Scotland, they might even have been on the Moon! but it wasn't a Moon made of green cheese, this one was blindingly white—as white as snow! and freezing—they were in the middle of a blizzard, could see no further than a few dozen yards, and although in daylight, it was a light so diffused and splintered by the snow that they had no sense of direction, after a few stumbles and a joint fall, pulling each other down, and then struggling to their feet, they had no idea of their point of arrival, no chance of simply stepping backwards into Glen Glum; and Maude realized that reconnoitring in these conditions would be impossible—they would likely die of the cold which was already numbing their bodies and their brains; and then Oyzell picked up the other danger, and screamed above the howl of the wind into Maude's ear, "someone's shooting at us!" and Maude sank down and they wrapped their arms around each other, welcoming death if it would end the biting cold; which was how they were when a pair of British Naval ratings found them just moments later, and barely soon enough to save them; Freddie McFadden all but fell over them, firing his rifle as he ran, stooping low and Phineas MacPhee almost ran slap, bang into him, but luckily, Phineas had the portable wireless and summoned help, which wasn't far behind, then leaving the two mysterious women in the hands of a pair of medics, McFadden and MacPhee continued the pursuit of the Kriegsmarine raiding party, part of an encirclement of the German Submarine Base, while the two Englishmen loaded the unconscious women onto a sled and headed back to Operation Tabarin where, after twenty-four hours in the Sick Bay, they were interviewed by Commander Archie Abernathy who didn't turn a hair at the story they could scarcely believe themselves: "we'll get you kitted out with some warm clothes, men's I'm afraid, we've never had any women here, not even Wrens, for all that we are neoteric, the concept of Ladies," that word, with all it's Morningside inflection, set aside from all the others, "in a war zone, is not one that even my Masters in Whitehall would try to impose on us here, but then I'll take you up to The Wheelhouse, that's what we call the Officer's Mess, and you can meet some other, errm, unexpected arrivals - but don't get the idea that you and them are Peck's bad boys and girls, being punished for doing what you didn't oughter, we did have three exceedingly bad apples just a couple of months ago, but they corrupted a young lad and managed to escape from the Brig—there weren't any Germans at their base at the time, the consensus is that they probably got lost and succumbed to frostbite and that's the last of them," and at the mention of three, Maude and Oyzell exchanged an anxious glance: "their names weren't MacFarlane, Doubleday and Elginbrod, by any chance," and Abernathy blinked in confusion, "why, yes," he said, "three traitors if ever I saw any—the fourth fellow claimed to be Scots too, tried passing himself off as a Hamish MacDonald, but with the help of some very enterprising Glaswegians you'll meet, we managed to identify him as Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering, yes, oh yes, the very same!" and he left them to absorb what he had told them and went off to brief his junior officers.