LITMIR.BIZ

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foot moved away. So did the rest of the little warm bulk to which it belonged. Cautiously, Ben followed.

      By painfully slow degrees, the journey proceeded. It seemed a mile long, but actually its length was only a yard or two. The foot that had been in his mouth proved, subsequently, of use as a sign-post. It was small and shoeless, and Ben developed a strange affection for it. While he saw it, there was hope. When it disappeared, overwhelming loneliness descended upon him, accompanied by a kind of panic. It must be remembered that Ben had been through a lot.

      Once he caught hold of the foot just as it was vanishing, and hung on to it like an anchor.

      ‘What are you doing?’ came the sharp whisper.

      ‘Not gettin’ fresh,’ mumbled Ben; ‘but I ain’t got nothin’ helse ter go by.’

      The foot slipped out of his grasp. He glued his eyes on it. Then it slipped over a precipice and vanished.

      ‘Oi!’ chattered Ben.

      As there was no immediate response, he repeated his observation, and then a voice whispered up from somewhere below him.

      ‘You seem to love that word,’ said the voice; ‘but I wish you’d say it a bit softer.’

      ‘Where are yer?’ asked Ben.

      ‘On the ground.’

      ‘Where’s that?’

      ‘Be quick! Want any help?’

      ‘Yus. Me boot’s got on top of me some’ow, and seems to ’ave caught on a ’ook.’

      Two small hands appeared from the precipice over which his companion had vanished. He stretched one of his own hands towards them, giving the hooked boot a jerk at the same time. There was a crackle overhead, and the roof descended upon him.

      Fortunately the roof caved in where it was thinnest, or Ben might not have replied to the anxious question, ‘Are you hurt?’ As it was, he was able to answer, ‘Dunno,’ and to feel about himself to find out. He couldn’t feel very fast, because heavy things lay all about on top of him, but the two small hands were deftly removing them, and when his back had been cleared he was able to report, to his considerable astonishment, that he was still alive.

      ‘On’y I think me spindle’s broke,’ he added.

      ‘What’s that?’ asked his companion.

      ‘Dunno,’ blinked Ben. ‘Ain’t I got one?’

      The only thing he was certain of was that he wouldn’t want anything more to eat for a week.

      The two hands gripped him, and assisted him down to the ground; but when you reached the ground it wasn’t easy to keep your feet. You swayed, and had to catch hold of something. And then you missed the something, and it caught hold of you …

      As Ben stared at the something that caught hold of him, he had a confused sensation that history was repeating itself, only inversely. Yes, there had been a situation similar to this only a few hours ago! A few hours? More like a few years! In that previous situation, however, it was Ben’s outstretched arms that had received a tottering form. Now, the form he had received was supporting him!

      The same hair, the same eyes—bright this time with concern, not with terror—the same slight, girlish figure, the same short brown skirt, now much blackened, the same soft warmth …

      ‘’Corse, miss, this beats me!’ muttered Ben dizzily.

      ‘Beats me too,’ responded the girl. ‘Don’t move for a jiffy, if you’re groggy.’

      Ben overstayed the jiffy. He did feel groggy. Then he leaned back a little, tested himself without her, and found that, with great care, it could be done.

      ‘O.K.,’ he reported. ‘I got me legs back. And, now—’oo bloomin’ are yer?’

      ‘Who are you first,’ she answered.

      ‘Oo am I?’

      ‘I want to know.’

      ‘’Corse yer does!’ nodded Ben. ‘Heverybody wants ter know. That’s the way, ain’t it? Hothers does the haskin’, and I does the tellin’.’

      ‘Please don’t get huffy.’

      ‘Oo’s ’uffy? Well, ’ave it yer own way. I’m Hadmiral Beatty. Now fer your’n!’

      A faint smile flickered in the torchlight. Then the smile vanished as the light was snapped off sharply. Admiral Beatty swung round with a gulp.

      ‘Keep steady, admiral!’ said the girl’s voice, through the darkness. ‘It just occurred to me that we’ll be fools if we show our lights.’

      ‘Yus, that’s orl right,’ complained Ben; ‘but don’t do things so sudden—’

      ‘Or if we raise our voices,’ continued the girl. ‘Sometimes you forget there’s a war on!’

      ‘It’s never orf, fer me!’ muttered Ben. ‘But wot’s the pertickler war yer torkin’ abart?’

      ‘Meaning you can’t guess?’

      In the darkness her hand stretched out, and took hold of his sleeve again. He was beginning to know the touch of those firm little fingers. He liked the touch of them. At least, when he got a bit of warning it was coming.

      Could he guess? He tried hard not to. Then he faced it.

      ‘’Ammersmith?’ he whispered sepulchrally.

      The grip on his sleeve tightened. He was answered. The answer wound round them as they stood there motionless, binding them grimly and inexplicably together. It sifted through the blackness, coiled through the unseen coal, and journeyed on invisible sound-waves to the engines, wedding itself to their muffled thudding.

      ‘Yus, but—you ain’t done it?’ muttered Ben, in a sudden sweat.

      ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I do bar that!’

      Her voice came in a sudden choked hiss. Something in the vehemence of the denial brought consolation to Ben. Wot—she done a murder? This bit of a gal? There’s a blinkin’ idea! Still, it was good to be sure.

      ‘It was done by the bloke wot was ’ere jest nah, wasn’t it?’ said Ben.

      ‘How do you know?’ shot out the girl.

      ‘Well—you ’eard wot they sed.’

      ‘Yes, yes, I heard! But—is that all?’

      ‘I don’t git yer.’

      ‘As far as you are concerned?’

      ‘Oh, I see. No, it ain’t. It’s never all as fur as I’m concerned! Things jest go on ’appenin’ as soon as they sees me comin’ and I can’t stop ’em. Gawd, they’ve ’appened ternight orl right!’ He shuddered. ‘It is ternight, ain’t it?’ Then, suddenly becoming conscious again of the fingers gripping his arm, he went on, ‘Yus, and you’re one of ’em, miss. Ain’t yer never goin’ ter tell me ’oo yer are, and ’ow yer got ’ere?’

      ‘What else has happened to you—tonight?’

      ‘Tork abart oysters!’

      ‘Please! What else happened? Why did you come on this boat? Were you following me?’

      ‘’Corse not!’

      ‘Well, you might have been. After the way I blundered into you like that.’

      ‘Yus, that did git me thinkin’, miss. But yer was too quick. Like a rabbit. Any’ow, I didn’t know you was on this ship.’

      ‘Then why are you here? Stowaway?’

      ‘That’ll be the nime, when they finds

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