Henry looked down again. He could still distinguish nothing. He could only feel his way. As his feet touched the ground Coles would leap upon him out of the night. He would never see him coming. He would be unable to protect himself in any way. Above all, he would have to stagger to bed afterwards without his glasses. He would not even be able to find the frames. Only the really short-sighted can understand what misery was his just then.
He went down stiffly, hand over hand, trying to keep his lips from trembling. At last he felt the gravel under his feet, released his hold of the drain-pipe and stood upright. From out the darkness Coles spoke.
“Now,” said he, “you can make ready for the biggest hiding you ever had.”
Henry backed against the wall and tried to make out Coles’ expression by screwing up his eyes till only little bead points of watery blue were showing. It was no good. Coles was merely a vast blur blotting out all hope. He felt a large hand upon his collar.
“Now,” said Coles.
And then, dramatically, there came from under the trees a sharp command.
“Let him alone!”
Henry shot to his full height, galvanised into hysterical delight. Glasses or no glasses, he knew that for the voice of Rouse.
He was saved.
Coles spun on his heel. Two forms were bearing down upon him out of the gloom, and he prepared for battle. He felt brave and bold, if a trifle uncertain upon his feet. He shot his cuffs and stretched out both hands ready to grasp these intruders in a bear-like hug. His face was flushed and excited, his temper was nearing boiling point. After a struggle he found his voice.