There was one chance and one only. The door blocked one end; the Gentleman the other; the only exit was the man-hole. They must risk it.
"Here, Blob!—up here!—quick now!—give us a leg!"
Blob gave him a heave. Up he went into the light, like a cork from a bottle. Staying himself on his elbows, he hung, half in the hole, half out of it, the light dazzling him.
A roar of laughter smote him in the heart.
Blinking, he looked about him.
Above waved the sycamores, breeze-stirred and dark, and walling him round, the Gap Gang.
Kit's first thought was to drop.
Two soft arms seized him from behind; a sickening breath was on his cheek; a smooth face pressed his; and a fawning treble was saying in his ear with appalling tenderness,
"Let ole George elp you, Lovey."