Kit was on it, and in through the window in a twinkle. The Parson followed.
The leading Grenadier came at him, bayonet at the charge. The Parson put the steel aside with his blade, and met the man fair in the face with his heel.
"Good punch!" he cried cheerily, and kicking the butt away from under him, scrambled into the loft.
He stood awhile both hands on his knees, heaving. Then he looked up, his blue eyes good and grinning.
"Prettiest thing I ever saw in my life!" he panted. "But, you young scaramouch! what the deuce d'you mean by stopping to chatter to that chap?"
"I thought he was hurt," gasped the boy panting against the wall.
"He's my friend."
CHAPTER LIX
MISS BLOSSOM
"Pistol, please."
The Gentleman was standing beneath the dormer, one hand uplifted.