They both pass out, and Durdles relocks it, and pockets his key.
'A thousand thanks for a curious and interesting night,' says Jasper, giving him his hand; 'you can make your own way home ?' 'I should think so!' answers Durdles.

'If you was to offer Durdles the affront to show him his way home, he wouldn't go home.
Durdles wouldn't go home till morning; And _then_ Durdles wouldn't go home, Durdles wouldn't.' This with the utmost defiance.
'Good-night, then.' 'Good-night, Mister Jarsper.' Each is turning his own way, when a sharp whistle rends the silence, and the jargon is yelped out: Widdy widdy wen! I--ket--ches--Im--out--ar--ter--ten.
Widdy widdy wy! Then--E--don't--go--then--I--shy-- Widdy Widdy Wake-cock warning!' Instantly afterwards, a rapid fire of stones rattles at the Cathedral wall, and the hideous small boy is beheld opposite, dancing in the moonlight.
'What! Is that baby-devil on the watch there!' cries Jasper in a fury: so quickly roused, and so violent, that he seems an older devil himself.
'I shall shed the blood of that impish wretch! I know I shall do it!' Regardless of the fire, though it hits him more than once, he rushes at Deputy, collars him, and tries to bring him across.

But Deputy is not to be so easily brought across.

With a diabolical insight into the strongest part of his position, he is no sooner taken by the throat than he curls up his legs, forces his assailant to hang him, as it were, and gurgles in his throat, and screws his body, and twists, as already undergoing the first agonies of strangulation.

There is nothing for it but to drop him.