"They ca'an't touch me, sir. I'm safe in Jesus." The old man seemed to shine in the darkness. "It's not death I fear for you!" cried the Parson. "No Christian fears that for his friend. It's--it's the old game--the Gap Gang." "Ah, they won't have no time for no larks," interposed the other with a comfortable chuckle. "They can do their muckiest. It won't last long. The soldiers'll stop that." The words, and the way of saying them, quickened the Parson to tremendous life. "You're right, old friend," he cried, his voice naming in the gloom. "Death to face, but nothing to fear." "Death to face," echoed the old man, "and Christ to follow." II "I'm distressed to disturb you," came a cold voice from without. "But time's nearly up." "You said five minutes, sir!" called Kit. "You've had three, my boy. You've got two." "And we'll make good use of em," gasped the Parson, and raced up the ladder. Snatching the despatch-bag from the staple, he tumbled the contents on the floor, and set the whole ablaze. The papers curled and crackled; and their dreadful secret escaped joyfully in merry little flames. "May God deal so with all traitors in his own good time!" prayed the Parson. He trod out the flames, and turned to the boys. "I'm goin for em." "So'm I, sir--and Blob." "So be it!" said the Parson, short and fierce. "Out knives. Off coats. Tighten belly-bands." He was on his knees, stuffing his coat into the empty despatch-bag, working in a white fury. "Now ask no questions, but listen, and obey! I'm going to undo the back door _noisily_. You'll undo the front door _quietly_. I shall sally, the despatch-bag slung across my shoulders--so--see?-- Give me a good start. Choose your moment. Then follow." The words came swift as hail. The Parson was at his best--the Englishman in action, back to the door, face to Eternity. The shock and storm of circumstance made lightning in the dark of his mind. He saw all before him clear as a landscape at night in the flashes of a thunderstorm. "Directly they begin to close on you, you'll get a panic--a screaming panic. Bolt back for the cottage; slam the door; lock and bar; through the house, out at the front, and make for the lugger! You may not be seen--the cottage'll cover you: and I'll keep em occupied as long as I can. If all goes as I hope, you'll find the lugger unguarded. The rest I must leave to you and the Almighty. It's a poor chance, but the only one." "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" came the warning voice from without. III The Parson slid down into the darkness. "Piper," he cried, hoarse and dry. "I believe--I believe these lads will win through. It's God's battle. He _must_ help." "He will, sir," replied the old man, firm as faith. "I'm a clergyman. You're a good man. This is a desperate business. Will you give us your blessing?" He was down on his knees, in his white shirt, his sword a gleam of silver on the slabs before him. "Kit."