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.