The move was practically inevitable, but its effect was such as only one
anticipated. That one was his adversary, who slowly bent under his weight
as though overcome thereby, shifting his grip lower and lower till it
almost looked as if he were about to collapse altogether. But just as the
breaking-point seemed to be reached there came a change. He gathered
himself together and with gigantic exertion began to straighten his bent
muscles. Slowly but irresistibly he heaved his enemy upwards. There came
a moment of desperate, confused struggle; and then, as the man lost his
balance at last, he relaxed his grip quite suddenly, flinging him
headlong over his shoulder.

It was a clean throw, contrived with masterly assurance, the result of
deliberate and trained calculation. The bully pitched upon his head on
the rough stones of the yard, and turned a complete somersault with the
violence of his fall.

A shout of amazement went up from the spectators. This end of the
struggle was totally unexpected.

The successful combatant remained standing with the sweat pouring from
his face and the blood still running down his chin. He stretched out his
arms with a slow, mechanical movement as if to test the condition of his
muscles after the tremendous strain he had put upon them. Then, still as
it were mechanically, he felt the torn collar-band of his shirt, with
speculative fingers. Finally he whizzed round on the heels and stared at
the huddled form of his fallen foe.

A shabby little man with thick, sandy eyebrows had gone to his
assistance, but he lay quite motionless in a twisted, ungainly attitude.
The flare of the lamp was reflected in his glassy, upturned eyes. Dumbly