The woman released her grasp of her victim as if she had been shot, and the crowd, with a shout on their lips, stopped short in amazement.
"Quick, Fred!" cried Jack, flying past me.
He dashed straight to where the little boy lay, swept him up in his arms, and then, with me close at his heels, was rushing straight for the outlet of the court, which, thank Heaven! was there, close at hand.
Next moment we were standing in the street which led to Beadle Square.
It all took less time to accomplish than it takes to write, and once out of that awful court we could hardly tell whether we were awake or dreaming.
The boy, however, in Jack's arms settled that question.
"Come on, quick!" said Smith, starting to run again.

"They'll be out after us." We hurried on until we were in Beadle Square.
"What's to be done ?" I asked.
"We must take him in with us," said Jack.

"Look at the state he's in." I did look.

The little fellow, who seemed about eight years old, was either stunned by his last blow or had fainted.

His face, save where the blood trickled down, was deadly pale, and as his head with its shock of black hair lay back on Jack's arm, it seemed as if he could not look in worse plight were he dead.
"We must take him with us," said Jack.
"What will Mrs Nash say ?" was my inward ejaculation, as we reached the door.
All the lights were out.