The two other policemen had moved forward. Jimmy moved toward them. Jimmy was never quite good enough to make the varsity team in his four years at college. But he had tried for four years and he had always been on the squad. His coach had, what amounted to a phobia, in the matter of blocking. Thus Jimmy, if he learned nothing else, had learned how to block. His coach had said repeatedly that no man can become a football player unless he learn to block. He had blocked and tackled big, fast, bruising varsity players for four years. And this was a time when the flying block and the flying tackle were not barred. Jimmy had also been taught that "clipping," blocking from the rear, was dangerous to the blockee and was severely penalized. Jimmy took a few mincing steps. His compact one hundred and fifty-eight pounds left the ground and turned sideways. Jimmy's right hip struck one of the blue coats right back of the knees at the joints. The man uttered a howl of anguish. There was a nasty snap. The man had a bad fracture that would keep him limping for the rest of his life. In falling, the man's hands flailed wildly. One of these hands struck Jimmy squarely in the eye. Jimmy got up quickly, his normally mild brown eyes blazing. He was just in time to see the finish. The third man had reached for a gun. A long iron arm reached out, a large hand seized the hand with the weapon. Two men nearly of equal height stood facing another. The eyes of one reflected surprise, anger and disappointment. The eyes of the other were now the color of cloudy ice. They were blazing with cold ferocity. The one thing needed to drive Matthews into a murderous rage had happened: an assault on Professor Brierly. In addition to the vast respect and veneration Matthews had for the old man he had a tenderness for him such as a man has for his mother. His scientific associates would have had difficulty recognizing the budding young scientist who showed so much promise under Professor Brierly's tutelage. The pressure of the fingers increased. The fingers of the blue coated individual opened and the weapon dropped. Matthews made a sudden movement. He released one hand but held on to the other. He was now behind the blue coated back. He had the other's arm bent across the back; he was pushing it up. He had the dangerous hammer-lock, a hold barred in amateur wrestling. The other panted chokingly: "Let go, damn you!" There was no answer. The pressure increased. There was a sudden tightening of the already taxed muscles. There was a dull snap; the blue coated figure fell writhing to the ground. The pilot, amazed at what was going on before him, had left the plane. He stood wide-eyed and white-faced at what he saw. Matthews stood there panting. A thin grin, the ghost of his usual grin wrinkled his taut features. "Don't worry," he said, "they're not policemen."