and to the detriment
of his shins, the Bloater at last sat down on a doorstep within a dark
passage, and feigned to tear his hair.

"Now ain't it wexin'?" he whispered, appealing to his small friend.

"Aggrawatin' beyond endoorance," replied Jim, with looks of sympathy.

"Wot _is_ to be done?" demanded the Bloater.

"Invite a Bobby to come an' help us," suggested Jim.

"H'm! an' stop 'em in their game, p'raps, at a pint w'ere nobody could
prove nothink against 'em, besides bringin' on ourselves the purlite
inquiry, `Wot are _you_ up to 'ere?'"

Little Jim looked disconsolate and said nothing, which, as the Bloater
testily remarked, was another of his witty rejoinders.

"Well, then," said Jim, "we must just wait till the fire breaks out an'
then bust upon 'em all of a 'eap."

"H'm! much they'd care for _your_ bustin' on 'em. No, Jim, we must risk
a little. Never wenter, never win, you know. Just you go round by the
other end of the street and creep as close as you can; you're small, you
know, an' won't be so easy seen as me. Try to make out wot they're up
to and then--"

"Then wot?"

"W'y, come back an' let me know. Away!" said the Bloater, waving his
hand with the air of a field-marshal.

Jim disappeared at once and was absent about ten minutes, during which
Master Robert Herring sat in the dark passage biting his nails and
feeling really uncomfortable, as is usually the case with energetic
spirits when reduced to unavoidable inaction. Presently Little Jim
returned with, as his friend and patron remarked, his eyes like two
saucers, and his face as white as a sheet.

"Hallo, Jim, wot's up?"

"Oh, Bob!" gasped Jim.

"Speak!" exclaimed the Bloater, seizing him by the shoulders and shaking
him violently.

"They've got the 'ouse choke full o' combustibles," gasped Jim in an
excited whisper. "I see 'em stuffin' straw and pitch, an' I dun know
wot all, through a small back winder."

"So--_now's_ the time for a Bobby," observed the Bloater, leaping up.

"No, taint," said Jim, detaining him. "I 'eard 'em speak. Oh, they're
sly dogs! They ain't a-goin' to run away arter settin' it alight.
They're goin' to run to the station, rouse up the men, an' help to put
it out! an' one of 'em says, `Jeff,' says 'e, larfin', `won't we lend
'em a good 'and to put it hout neither!' And the other grinned, an'
says, `Yes, Phil, we'll do our best, an' it'll go hard if I can't in the
middle o' the smoke an' flames,