The Parson was at the window in a minute and listening to the man's story. According to his own account Knapp had done the twelve miles to Lewes under the hour. "Went slap away, as your orders was, sir, no foolin nor nothin, just slap bang through em--you ask Mr. Caryll." "Never mind about your feats," said the Parson shortly. "Did you see the Commandant?" "O yes, sir. Ran straight away through the camp to his tent, where the flag were flyin, never bothered about no sentries nor nothin. Just as I trot up, a little bit of a butterfly lady like bob out o the tent, and when she see me--'Beau, boy!' she squeals. 'Beau, boy! ere's a niked man! _Do_ come and see!' And she jig up and down and tiddle her fingers at me, please as Punch.... Out come ole Whiskers, sword and all. 'You something something!' says he, and knocks her back into the tent. Then he run at me, roarin." The little man was sniggering. "I see by his eyes he meant it all, so-- "'Here, sir,' says I, 'somethin for yourself!' and chucks the note in his mug." The Parson was breathing deep. "And what then?" "Why, sir, I'd nothin on me ony the dooks me God give me. So I up and I skip it." The Parson leaned out, and smote at the man's shaven skull with the butt-end of his pistol. "Ain't I done right, sir?" squeaked the little man, dodging back. "You've sold us!" cursed the Parson, and he was white even in the moon. "Hush, sir! hush!" cried Kit. "For goodness' sake, hush! They'll hear you." "Hullo! hullo! what's all this?" came a voice from across the sward. "Excuse me, sir!" whispered Knapp, unabashed. "I'd best be steppin it. Here are your papers, sir." He flung a packet through the window and flashed away. The Gentleman sat on the wall in the moonlight. "So your chap's back," he called in his friendly voice. "Yes, sir," replied the Parson harshly, "and the soldiers on his heels two thousand strong, with a couple of Horse Batteries, and a company of Sappers to rig up a gallows for conceited young coxcombs who pose on walls in the moonlight." "Very glad to see any friends of yours any time," replied the Gentleman. "But unless they come soon I'm afraid we shall miss. I'm off at dawn. But I'll see you again before going. Good-night." He sauntered away. The Parson turned, grinding his teeth. Then he saw the boy's face, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Turn in, boy, and try to get a snooze. What tomorrow brings Heaven knows, but we do know we shall want all our strength to meet it." CHAPTER LXII THE PARSON MUSES The Parson opened his packet. It contained a batch of newspapers dropped for him daily at Lewes by the coach, and not called for since last Saturday. Ah, here we are! _The Times, Monday, August l9_--that was the day before yesterday. _Lord Nelson is arrived at Portsmouth._ Then the Gentleman was right! He was here, the man his country had believed barring the passage of the Combined Squadron Vigo way. Why had the watch-dog left his post?