"Beast! don't bite!" he gurgled, as the man munched his shoulder; and the image of Gwen, who when hard-driven used her teeth effectively, rose before him. The image faded. The man had the under-grip, and was squeezing his soul out. Another moment, and his ribs must go. "Blob!" he choked. A dark something shot through the door and shocked against the Frenchman. "Where'll Oi kill him?" asked a voice. "Where you like," muttered Kit, swooning. A hand rose and fell. The man relaxed his grip. Kit could feel him fading and fading away, as the life oozed out of him. He was a-horse on Death. "Assez," muttered the Frenchman sleepily, swayed and fell. Dazed and dizzy, Kit staggered to his feet. A shadow darkened the door; a strange voice cried in horrible triumph: "_Our'n!_" Two pistols lay on the table. Blindly the boy snatched both. "Now!" he said, as one in a dream, and, shoving a pistol against the man's bare and shaggy bosom, fired. Blindly he stepped over the fellow's body, and out into the open. A man, on hands and knees, was crawling away round the corner of the cottage; another lay dead on his face across the way. Before him he saw a little cloud of men, and the gleam of a silver head thrusting out moon-like from among them. Blindly he fired into the brown, and blindly followed up. One man fell; others slunk away, snarling. III The whole thing was over. Buzzing August prevailed again. "Are you hurt?" sobbed Kit. "No, sir, I'm bravely, thank you. Properly shook up, though." The old man was heaving like the sea. "They'd no knives nor nothin, only one on em, and Boy Hoad stuck him as he passed. They hurt emselves more'n me. I bluv I'm a better man above the waist nor ever I were. All the juice like goes to my arms now I've no legs--that's how I reck'n it be." "We must get in before they come again. Quick!" "Ah, they won't come again, sir. Easy satisfied, the Gap Gang. Got no guts because they got no God.... Ah, here's Mr. Joy!" The Parson was coming across the greensward, high and mighty as a turkey-cock. The Gentleman was standing among the sycamores, laughing. He waved his hand to the boy. "Congratulations, Little Chap," he called. "Don't accept em," snarled the Parson. "Posing impostor!--coxcomb!-- cad!" "What! has he wounded you, sir?" asked old Piper. "Pinked me in the calf, the coward!" snapped the Parson. "He's not a gentleman. I always knew he wasn't!--Frenchified feller!" He looked round with grim satisfaction. "So you've been busy, too. I reckon they're half a dozen short o what they were before the sally. And we've got our man through, too!" He pointed across the plain. From the foot of the Downs a string of Grenadiers were coming back at the double. They had no prisoner. III THE SHADOW OF THE WOMAN CHAPTER LVII THE PARLEY I The door was shut, and all once again darkness in the cottage of the kitchen. Something slithering along the floor caught Kit's ear.