And the bass reply,
_"I'll squeege your eart out !"
"Hullo! hullo! hullo!—what's forrad there?"_ came the Gentleman's echoing voice, as he crept towards them.
Kit scuffled down the drain, and tripped over a tumbling mass. It writhed; it stank; it was hot; it had two voices that growled and squeaked.
"Well done, Blob!" he panted. "Which is you?"
"Oi'm me," came a smothered treble from the heart of the tumble.
The boy's hand felt a shirt, warm and wet.
"Is that you?" prodding with his dirk.
"G-r-r, you young—"
Kit slid the dirk home. He was surprised to find how smoothly the steel ran in. It was not hard, then, to kill a man, and it was strangely pleasing.