As he said it, a door slammed violently; a great gust of wind rushed past the boy down the drain.
Blob, the faithful, had obeyed his orders.
The boy was alone in Hell, and the Devil was stalking him.
II
Kit turned round.
Under the man-hole squatted old Toadie. The light bathed his hunched shoulders, his receding forehead, his projecting teeth.
The horror of it, the darkness, here in the bowels of the earth, hidden from sun and wind and light of heaven, undid the boy.
He tried to scream and could not. He battered madly at the bricks, caging him like an iron destiny, and only hurt his hands.
Surely, surely God would hear him!
Toadie began to hop towards him—hop—hop—hop.