Then suddenly there was a lull in the uproar. Bulger was upon his feet. Diggle's men paused to gaze at their prostrate leader. Then every man of them was scrambling pell mell over the wall, yelling as the stocks of the Sepoys' muskets sped them on their flight.
"What is it?" asked Desmond.
Bulger pointed to Diggle, among the fallen.
"He've gone to his account, sir, which I may be wrong, but the Almighty have got a long black score agen him."
"How did it happen?"
Bulger lifted his hook.
"'Twas that there Diggle as was the why and wherefore o' this little ornament, sir, and 'twas only right he should be paid for what he done. We fell down, him and me; I was under. He hoisted himself on his hands to get free, and I lifted my hook, sir, and caught him a blow under the chin. If it didn't break his neck, sir, my name en't Bill Bulger, which I'm sorry for his poor wicked soul all the same."
Phyllis had her hands clasped about Desmond's arm.
"Is he dead?" she asked in a voice of awe.
"Come away," said Desmond quietly, leading her toward the house. "Let us find your mother."