It was Blob; Blob, the brave, who had fulfilled his orders and more. Loyal to his brother-boy, he had slammed the door as bidden, and, himself, the wrong side of it, had come to Kit's assistance. After all he was a boy, and was not the young gentleman a boy?--and is not all the world against boys?--Boys that must hold together, or they will surely all be lost. Kit heard and lived anew. III Before him in the darkness was a muffled tumult. Out of it came Blob's plaintive squeak, _"Give over squeegin"_ And the bass reply, _"I'll squeege your eart out !" "Hullo! hullo! hullo!--what's forrad there?"_ came the Gentleman's echoing voice, as he crept towards them. Kit scuffled down the drain, and tripped over a tumbling mass. It writhed; it stank; it was hot; it had two voices that growled and squeaked. "Well done, Blob!" he panted. "Which is you?" _"Oi'm me,"_ came a smothered treble from the heart of the tumble. The boy's hand felt a shirt, warm and wet. "Is that you?" prodding with his dirk. _"G-r-r, you young--"_ Kit slid the dirk home. He was surprised to find how smoothly the steel ran in. It was not hard, then, to kill a man, and it was strangely pleasing. The man shivered and relaxed. _"Is that old Toadie you've got there?"_ called the Gentleman, crawling leisurely along. "It was." _"What you doing to him?"_ "Killing him." _"Ah, well,"_ said the Gentleman, _"I never cared much for old. Toadie. We weren't simpatico. If you care to wait a minute I'll--"_ "Can't," gasped Kit. "No time. Now, boy, hurry!" Blob crawled out from beneath the dead man. "Anudder pennorth for Blo-ub!" he gurgled, and added jealously, one hand on the corpse, "He's moine. Oi killed un first." "Never mind about that! This way." There was one chance and one only. The door blocked one end; the Gentleman the other; the only exit was the man-hole. They must risk it. "Here, Blob!--up here!--quick now!--give us a leg!" Blob gave him a heave. Up he went into the light, like a cork from a bottle. Staying himself on his elbows, he hung, half in the hole, half out of it, the light dazzling him. A roar of laughter smote him in the heart. Blinking, he looked about him. Above waved the sycamores, breeze-stirred and dark, and walling him round, the Gap Gang. Kit's first thought was to drop. Two soft arms seized him from behind; a sickening breath was on his cheek; a smooth face pressed his; and a fawning treble was saying in his ear with appalling tenderness, "Let ole George elp you, Lovey." CHAPTER LIV THE PARSON'S AGONY I The Parson stamped up and down the loft, gnawing his thumb. Those long shots from the rear had ceased half an hour ago. A tall Grenadier drooped across the wall. How should he have known there was one in the cottage could reach out a fatal finger and tap him on the forehead at two hundred yards? The Parson's jolly face was haggard.