The word went home. The boy shot in, and slammed the door. All again was darkness, and Blob breathing heavily at his side.
"I'm through! I'm through!" came a triumphant yell.
Kit's eye was at a crack.
The Parson had broken away from the rout, and was making for the hills, the despatch-bag flopping in his back.
The Gentleman, leading the charge at the cottage, turned.
"Abattez moi eel homme là!" he sang.
A Grenadier dropped to his knee.
Outside the door a musket cracked.
The Grenadier leapt to his feet, whirled round with floating tails, bowed to his executioner in absurdest doll-fashion, and subsided languidly into death.
The Parson was away, the Gentleman after him with sleuth-hound strides.