But there came a moment when we clearly had to leave the house; the shadows were closing in on us and things were getting stranger and more threatening. I stepped backwards towards the group, and darkness came rolling in towards us. "We have to leave now," I said; and outside it was day, and bright, and nobody objected they just got their things and got ready.
But just as we were going to leave, I noticed a tiny weasel in a long narrow glass tank. It had a piece of string tied round its neck, like a lead, but this was too tight (it had grown while wearing the lead) and it seemed distressed. I took it out of the tank, and carefully eased the knot and slipped off the string. I noticed an even smaller tank it must have grown out of; this one was labelled "miniature weasel habitat". The weasel in my hands wasn't happy to be picked up, but wasn't biting yet, and seemed to have grown since I picked it up; its head was now the size of a walnut, and when I had picked it up it seemed the size of a marble. I slipped it back into its tank - still without being bitten - and we left the house.
But at the back of my mind was worry that we had abandoned a tiny weasel to dark forces unknown.