saving of him. Folks mightn't be able to serve Ejectment Orders in
time of War. . . . Besides, now he came to think of it, back in the
week there had been some panic in the banks, and some talk of a law
having been passed by which debts couldn't be recovered in a hurry.
And, anyway, Mr Pamphlett had forgotten about Bank Holiday.
There was no hurry before Tuesday . . .

Nicky-Nan dropped off again into a sleep punctuated by twinges of
pain.

Towards dawn, as the pain eased, his slumber grew deeper and
undisturbed. He was awakened by--What?

At first it seemed to be the same sound of sobbing to which he had
listened early in the night. Then, with a start, he knew it to be
something quite different--an impatient knocking at the foot of his
bed-chamber stairs.

Nicky-Nan shuffled out of bed, opened his door, and peered down the
stairway.

"Who's there?" he challenged. "And what's your business? Hullo!"--
catching sight of Bill Varco, coastguardsman, on the flat below--"the
house afire? Or what brings you?"

"The Reserves are called out," answered up Bill Varco. "You'll get
your paper later. But the Chief Officer's here from Troy with a
little fellow from the Customs there, and I be sent round with first
news. I've two dozen yet to warn . . . In the King's name!
An' there'll be a brake waiting by the bridge-end at ten-thirty.