'You sure?'
'Yeah. But yez may suffocate. Yer know that creek they talk about? The one yez can be up without no paddle?'
'That's not this one, is it?' said Colon.
'It's coz of the cattle pens,' said Wee Mad Arthur. 'Cattle penned up is always a bit nervous.'
'I know how they feel.'
There was a creak outside the door. Colon managed to get to his feet.
The door opened.
A figure filled the doorway. It was in silhouette because of the light behind it, but Colon looked up into two triangular glowing eyes.
Colon's body, which in many respects was considerably more intelligent than the mind it had to carry around, took over. It made use of the adrenalin-fed start the brain had given it and leapt several feet in the air, pointing its toes as it came down so that the iron tips of Colon's boots hit the trapdoor together.
The filth of years and the rust of iron gave way.
Colon went through. Fortunately his body had the foresight to hold its own nose as he hit the much-maligned stream, which went: Gloop.
Many people, when they're precipitated into water, struggle to breathe. Sergeant Colon struggled not to. The alternative was too horrible to think about.
He rose again, buoyed up in part by various gases released from the ooze. A few feet away, the candle on Wee Mad Arthur's rocking raft started to burn with a blue flame.
Someone landed on his helmet and kicked it like a man spurs on a horse.
'Right turnl Forward!'
Half-walking, half-swimming, Colon struggled down the fetid drain. Terror lent him strength. It would demand repayment with interest later but, for now, he left a wake. Which took several seconds to close up after him.
He didn't stop until a sudden lack of pressure overhead told him that he was in the open air. He grabbed in the darkness, found the greasy pilings of a jetty, and clung to them, wheezing.
'What was that thing?' said Wee Mad Arthur.
'Golem,' Colon panted.
He managed to get a hand on to the planks of the jetty, tried to pull himself up, and sagged back into the water.
'Hey, did I just hear something?' said Wee Mad Arthur.
Sergeant Colon rose like an undersea-launched missile and landed on the jetty, where he folded up.
'Nah, just a bird or something,' said Wee Mad Arthur.
'What do your friends call you, Wee Mad Arthur?' muttered Colon.
'Dunno. Ain't got none.'
'Gosh, that's surprising.'
Lord de Nobbes had a lot of friends now. 'Up the hatch! Here's looking at your bottom!' he said.
There were shrieks of laughter.
Nobby grinned happily in the middle of the crowd. He couldn't remember when he had enjoyed himself so much with all his clothes on.
In the far corner of Lady Selachii's drawing-room a door closed discreetly and, in the comfortable smoking-room beyond, anonymous people sat down in leather armchairs and looked at one another expectantly.