"This isn't a fight," he cried, "it's a battle!"

With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and,
raising the blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the
other end of the house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure,
a tumult of cries, a shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome.
From beneath them a man ran into the deserted street, and in the
glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw his white, upturned face. He was
without a hat and his head was circled by a bandage. But Ford
recognized Cuthbert. "That's Ford!" he cried, pointing. "And the
girl's with him!" He turned to a group of men crouching in the
doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was imprisoned.
"The girl's alive!" he shouted.

"The girl's alive!" The words were caught up and flung from window
to window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant
cheers. Ford pushed Miss Dale forward.

"Let them see you," he said, "and you will never see a stranger
sight."

Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay
empty, but at either end of it, held back by an army of police,
were black masses of men, and beyond them more men packed upon the
tops of taxicabs and hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps
showed, and on the roofs shadowy forms crept cautiously from
chimney to chimney; and in the windows of darkened rooms opposite,
from behind barricades of mattresses and upturned tables, rifles
appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden flash of flame. And
with these flashes were others that came from windows and roofs