Wick had opened the door and was staring at the outside knob with an expression akin to fear and loathing. Tell me it's not another-- Four knots Count them Four knots looped around the knob like some kind of a-- Wick's voice broke. Miles patted his brother's shoulder. It's all right. We mustn't let these warnings get to us. We'd be playing right into their hands . . . whoever they might be. Jose's Durerbund, probably. Nobody else would use Albrecht's art as a symbol. And anyway, this is nowhere near to a noose knot. He knelt to inspect the configurations more closely. Quite interesting, actually. These are closer to something I read about once. I think they're called 'Turk's Head' knots. See how they look like little turbans? That must be really hard to do. Wick grabbed Miles and jerked him up. You are not supposed to be admiring these people But a job well done in any endeavor-- Miles, Miles. Wick's grip tightened almost painfully. Yes? He let go. Get rid of that thing You needn't shout. Miles carefully rearranged his jacket. Do you mind if I don't destroy the knot this time? I'd like to study it, see if I could make one of these myself. Wick stamped down the hall. I'll be outside. Don't bother locking anything. What's the point? What's the point of this entire exercise?"