To Kit, kneeling at his side, it seemed that only the old man's slow blinking eyelids were alive. The horror of it thrilled the boy, and woke the woman in him. He was not repelled; he was drawn closer. Taking off his coat, he rolled it, sopping as it was, and stuffed it beneath the other's head. Propped so, the old man lay in the falling gloom, head quaintly cocked, and chin crushed down on his chest. "Are you comfortable, sir?" "Comforubble as a man can be that canna feel," the other grunted. "My back's bruk. I'm dyin uppuds." Stealthily the boy took the old man's hand in his. A faint tightening of the clay-cold fingers surprised him. The dusk was falling fast. At their feet the sea still crashed uneasily. Above them the cliff showed white. Under the moon one red star sparkled. From out of the smoke they could hear the sound of oars and voices. Boats were searching amid the wreckage. "Ay, you may sarch," muttered the grim old man. "It's little you'll find but your own carpses." He rolled his head round. Kit marked the shine of his eyes, the blink of pale lids, and the glimmer of his face. "Look in ma breast-pocket. It's there." The boy's scared fingers travelled over the other's sodden coat. It was like searching a drowned man. "Yes, sir. Here it is." "Hod it oop." The boy held the scent-bottle before the other's eyes. The old man gazed at it, licking his lips. Then he rolled his eyes up to the boy's. "Kit Caryll," came the squeezed voice suddenly, "are you your father's son?" "I hope so, sir." There was a thrilling silence. "Then take charge." Slowly the boy received the trust into his soul. "Very good, sir." He slipped the scent-bottle into his pocket. "It's all in there," continued the ghastly voice. "It's a plot, see?--to kidnap Nelson. There's a gal in it--o coorse. Thinks she can twiddle the A'mighty round her thumb because her face ain't spotty. Lay that in Nelson's hands--and we'll see." The dusk was falling fast; the sea stilled; a breathing calm was everywhere. "This here's Beachy Head. Birling Gap's yonder--where there's a last glimmer yet. Don't go that road. Soon as the tide's down, round the Head, and climb t'other side. It falls away there. Make for Lewes along the top o the Downs. There's a camp o soldiers there. Soldiers ain't much account, but they'll serve to see you through to Merton. And once there, and that in Nelson's hands--I ain't died in vain." The hoarse voice grew hoarser. "And mind! trust no one; don't go anigh farm, cottage, or village. It's an enemy's land all this side o Lewes. Gap Gang country, the folk call it. They're all in it--up to the neck." "I'll do my best, sir," said the boy, licking up his tears.