I do not know whether Elzevir had been so taxed by the
fierce struggle that he could not put his fullest force into the throw,
or whether the other, being a very strong and heavy man, needed more to
fling him; but so it was, that instead of the turnkey going down straight
as he should, with the back of his head on the floor (for that is the
real damage of the toss), he must needs stagger backwards a pace or two,
trying to regain his footing before he went over.
It was those few staggering paces that ruined him, for with the last he
came upon the stones close to the well-mouth, that had been made wet and
slippery by continual spilling there of water. Then up flew his heels,
and he fell backwards with all his weight.
As soon as I saw how near the well-mouth he was got, I shouted out and
ran to save him; but Elzevir saw it quicker than I, and springing forward
seized him by the belt just when he turned over. The parapet wall was
very low, and caught the turnkey behind the knee as he staggered,
tripping him over into the well-mouth. He gave a bitter cry, and there
was a wrench on his face when he knew where he was come, and 'twas then
Elzevir caught him by the belt. For a moment I thought he was saved,
seeing Elzevir setting his body low back with heels pressed firm against
the parapet wall to stand the strain.
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