Listen to Basil," said the other in a very strange voice.

"He's not talking to himself." "Then he is talking to us," I cried.
"No," said Rupert simply, "he's talking to somebody else." Great branches of the elm loaded with leaves swung about us in a sudden burst of wind, but when it died down I could still hear the conversational voice above.

I could hear two voices.
Suddenly from aloft came Basil's boisterous hailing voice as before: "Come up, you fellows.

Here's Lieutenant Keith." And a second afterwards came the half-American voice we had heard in our chambers more than once.

It called out: "Happy to see you, gentlemen; pray come in." Out of a hole in an enormous dark egg-shaped thing, pendent in the branches like a wasps' nest, was protruding the pale face and fierce moustache of the lieutenant, his teeth shining with that slightly Southern air that belonged to him.
Somehow or other, stunned and speechless, we lifted ourselves heavily into the opening.