“Who is that?” he demanded. “Who’s that? Come out and face me here! Come out from under those trees, you creepy, crawly spies. Come out into the open!”
They came slowly towards him. As they drew near to Coles he recognised them suddenly, and his voice cracked in a scream of anger.
“W—what! YOU! Was it you sent this beastly little creature shinning up that drain-pipe? He’s spying for you, is he? Well, of all the rotten, low-down swine! D—d—d’you mean to say——”
“The only thing I mean to say,” said Rouse, “is that I perceive you to be tight.”
Coles bounded forward.
His words were not coherent. He only babbled. And when he could babble no more he struck out.
“That’s not where I am,” said Rouse. “You want to aim here.”
Coles turned dazedly, swinging both fists.
For a while they watched him with keen interest. Finally, as he spun round for the fifth time, Terence reached out and pushed him over.
“It’s the cold air doing it,” said Rouse, peering at him distastefully. “I should advise you to go in.”