Cthulhu Britannica London 2 (Keeper's Guide)

“Miss Fowler,” said Mr Panu, “Do you think it is right and proper that I, an unmarried student, be unaccompanied in your house.” He stood up from the cosy armchair and passed over his cup, catching the last few crumbs of biscuit from the saucer as he did so.
“Mr Panu. I'm surprised at you. This is 1922. We have had a woman on the throne as recently as 1903, we have the vote and during the war I drove an ambulance. At times I was alone with six or seven men, some of them bleeding profusely. The time for such niceties is over, particularly when we are about to raise the dead.” She took the tray out into the kitchen and placed it on the side, donned an apron over her tweeds and made for the back door.
“Now, bring the bones,” she called back to Mr Panu. They made their way together out of the kitchen and down the narrow gravel path, beyond the rhododendron bushes at the back of the lawn to the shed. Miss Fowler carried a storm lantern and Mr Panu a faded black leather Gladstone bag. They were a strange pair: she a small, slight spinster in her forties, but vivacious and busy; and he a large Indian man, no older than 25, with dark eyes and a bushy black beard. He was easily a foot taller than Miss Fowler, and trailed awkwardly behind her. It was a crisp night in early February, an auspicious date, with a new moon and thin starlight.
“Mind your hat there,” she said as they entered the shed.
“It is not a hat. It is a dastar, a symbol of my spiritual courage.”
“Good. After what happened last night, we will need all the courage we can muster.”
It was quite a large shed with space for a workbench to run all around the walls, and still have space for a worktable and two chairs in the middle. The windows, indeed all the walls and the back of the door, had been covered over with dark rough blankets and the inside of the roof covered in felt.
No light could be seen from outside, nor hardly a sound. The room smelled musty, of smoke, earth and damp…