Monk shook his head to clear it. All that mattered now was getting Scuff up to the top before he died of shock and the cold. He wanted to look at the wound, but there was nowhere to lay Scuff down, nowhere to hang the lantern so he could see. His legs were freezing and clumsy, his heart was pounding, and the stench of sewage all but made him gag, but he was moving as fast as he could, always uphill, against the flow of the water. Once he passed a series of iron rungs in the wall; alone he would have climbed, but not with Scuff.

He rounded a corner. The light seemed clearer now. He must be nearing the surface!

Then he saw a figure ahead of him, a man, thin, with his arm raised. There was a shout, but in the tunnel it echoed. Against the roar of the water going over the weir he could not make out the words. It must be raining harder.

The shot still took him by surprise, ricocheting off the wall and sending brick chips and dust flying. He threw himself against the wall, sheltering Scuff as much as he could with his own body.

There was another shout, and another, but they sounded further away. He looked around and at first thought there was no one there. Then he saw the lantern held high, Orme's familiar figure behind it. Relief washed over him like a warm tide, almost robbing him of the little strength he had left.

"Orme!" he shouted. "Here! Help me!"

"Mr. Monk, sir! Are you all right?" Orme ran over, slipping in the water, his lantern swaying wildly, his face crumpled with concern.

"Scuffs shot," Monk said simply. "We've got to get him up."

Orme was aghast. "Now? Just now?"

"No! No ... we caught up with the assassin and he shot at us."

"Right, sir. I'll lead the way," Orme said steadily. "Come with me."

It seemed a long way before they finally emerged into the open cutting. By now Monk had abandoned his lantern, simply following Orme's light ahead. He wanted to hold Scuff gently, in both arms. The boy was beginning to stir, and every now and then he let out a soft groan.

When they reached the end of the cutting and were on level ground again, they stopped. For the first time Monk saw Scuffs face in the daylight. He was ashen, and there were already hollows of shock around his eyes. Monk felt a tight pinching in his heart. He looked up at Orme.

"You better get 'im to a doctor, Mr. Monk," Orme said anxiously.

Scuffs eyes flickered open. "I want Crow," he said weakly. "It 'urts summink awful! Am I gonna die?"

"No," Monk promised. "No, you're not. I'm going to take you to the hospital-"