"I'll 'old 'im. Now, Bill, knock the tripe out of him!" Her
grip was as strong as a man's, and her wrist pressed like an iron bar
upon the Admiral's throat. He made a desperate effort to disengage
himself, but the most that he could do was to swing her round, so as to
place her between his adversary and himself. As it proved, it was the
very best thing that he could have done. The rough, half-blinded and
maddened by the blows which he had received, struck out with all his
ungainly strength, just as his partner's head swung round in front of
him. There was a noise like that of a stone hitting a wall, a deep
groan, her grasp relaxed, and she dropped a dead weight upon the
pavement, while the Admiral sprang back and raised his stick once more,
ready either for attack or defense. Neither were needed, however, for
at that moment there was a scattering of the crowd, and two police
constables, burly and helmeted, pushed their way through the rabble. At
the sight of them the rough took to his heels, and was instantly
screened from view by a veil of his friends and neighbors.
"I have been assaulted," panted the Admiral. "This woman was attacked
and I had to defend her."
"This is Bermondsey Sal," said one police officer, bending over the
bedraggled heap of tattered shawl and dirty skirt.
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