After resting for a few minutes against the front of a shop he moved again into the crowd, now much thinner, and soon to be altogether dispersed.

The helmets of policemen drew him in a certain direction; two constables were clearing the way, and he addressed them, asking whether they had seen a bareheaded man recently damaged in a fight.
"There's been a disturbance over yonder," one replied, carelessly pointing to a spot where other helmets could be discerned.
Thither Gammon made his way.

He found police and public gathered thickly about some person invisible; a vigorous effort and he got near enough to see a recumbent body, quite still, on which the flakes of snow were falling.
"Let me look at him," he requested of a constable who would have pushed him away.

"It's a friend of mine, I believe." Yes, it was Lord Polperro, unconscious, and with blood about his mouth.
The police were waiting as a matter of professional routine to see whether he recovered his senses; they had, of course, classed him as "drunk and incapable." "I say," Gammon whispered to one of them, "let me tell you who that is." The conference led to the summoning of a cab, which by police direction was driven to the nearest hospital, St.Bartholomew's.

Here Gammon soon learnt that the case was considered serious, so serious that the patient has been put to bed and must there remain.
Utterly done up Gammon threw himself into the cab to be driven to Kennington Road.