"Jack Knapp, sir," said the old man, picking his teeth. "Sneaked a drum from a travellin showman by the look on it, and tow-rowin like a rigiment. See him thump it. Ho! ho! That's joy to Jack, I knaw. Now he's for chargin em, drum and all. Ha! ha!"
Whoever else might escape there was no hope for that wingless old man. His fate was certain, his end was already come. Within five minutes at most the great doors would have slammed on him for ever. And here he sat chuckling like a boy at a fair.
It is something to be a saint, thought Kit, something to be as sure as that. This old man had built his house upon the Rock indeed.
They watched the stampede, and the Gentleman's vain attempt to stay it. Their hearts surged to the Parson's battle-cry, and sank to the Gentleman's thrust, to surge again as Knapp felled his man.
"Knapp'd him a nice un," chuckled the old man, not above a pun at death's door. "Reglar revellin in it is Knapp, I knaw."
"Our time's coming!" panted Kit. "Stand by, Blob!"
The Gentleman was down, the Gang upon the run. "Now, sir!" cried
Piper. "Now's your chance."
IV
"Now, Blob!—nippy with the table there!"
Out they rushed, and dumped the table down on the left of the door.