lperro's
shout defying the enemy.

"Let him come on! Let him come on like a man! Take that, you ruffian,
and that!"

Gammon, knowing the conflict grossly unequal, did not scruple to fight
his own way. Polperro, wildly thrashing about him with both fists,
excited wrath in every direction. There was a general scrimmage; shouts
of rage mingled with wild laughter; the throng crushed this way and
that. Grappling in his own defence with a big brute who had clutched
his throat, Gammon saw Polperro go down. It was his last glimpse of the
unfortunate man. Fighting savagely he found himself borne far away by
an irresistible rush, and when he had lost sight of his foe he tried
vainly to return to the place where Polperro had fallen. The police
were now interfering, the crowd swayed more violently than ever, and
began to scatter itself in off-streets.

From church towers of east and west chimes rang merrily for the New
Year. Softly fell the snow from a black sky, and was forthwith trodden
into slush.

Though he was badly mauled and felt sick Gammon would not abandon the
hope of discovering his friend. After resting for a few minutes against
the front of a shop he moved again into the crowd, now much thinner,
and soon to be altogether dispersed. The helmets of policemen drew him
in a certain direction; two constables were clearing the way, and he
addressed them, asking whether they had seen a bareheaded man recently
damaged in a fight.

"There's been a disturbance over yonder," one replied, carelessly
pointing to a spot where other helmets could be discerned.

Thither Gammon made his way. He found police and public gathered
thickly about some person invisible; a vigorous effort and he got near
enough to see a recumbent body, quite still, on which the flakes of
snow were falling.

"Let me look at him," he requested of a constable who would have pushed
him away. "It's a friend of mine, I believe."

Yes, it was Lord Polperro, unconscious, and with blood about his mouth.

The police were waiting as a matter of professional routine to see
whether he recovered his senses; they had, of course, classed him as
"drunk and incapable."

"I say," Gammon whispered to one of them, "let me tell you who that is."

The conference led to the summoning of a cab, which by police direction
was driven to the nearest hospital, St. Bartholomew's. Here Gammon soon
learnt that the case was considered serious, so serious that the
patient has bee