It was a sunny morning, people going about their ordinary business, every one smiling and happy. Suddenly Ryle saw the Archdeacon stop in front of Hogg; himself started across the street, urged he knew not by what impulse, saw Hogg's ugly sneering face, saw the Archdeacon's arm shoot out, catch Hogg one, two terrific blows in the face, saw Hogg topple over like a heap of clothes falling from their peg, was in time to hear the Archdeacon crying out, "You dirty spy! You'd set upon me from behind, would you? Afraid to meet me face to face, are you? Take that, then, and that!" And then shout, "It's daylight! It's daylight now! Stand up and face me, you coward!" The next thing of which the terrified Ryle was conscious was that people were running up from all sides. They seemed to spring from nowhere. He saw, too, how Hogg, the blood streaming from his face, lay there on his back, not attempting to move. Some were bending down behind him, holding his head, others had their hands about Brandon, holding him back. Errand- boys were running, people were hurrying from the shops, voices raised on every side--a Constable slowly crossed the street--Ryle slipped away-- Joan had gone out at once after breakfast that morning to the little shop, Miss Milligan's, in the little street behind the Precincts, to see whether she could not get some of that really fresh fruit that only Miss Milligan seemed able to obtain. She was for some little time in the shop, because Miss Milligan always had a great deal to say about her little nephew Benjie, who was at the School as a day-boy and was likely to get a scholarship, and was just now suffering from boils. Joan was a good listener and a patient, so that it was quite late--after ten o'clock--as she hurried back. Just by the Arden Gate Ellen Stiles met her. "Oh, you poor child!" she cried; "aren't you at home? I was just hurrying up to see whether I could be of any sort of help to you!" "Any help?" echoed Joan, seeing at once, in the nodding blue plume in Ellen's hat, forebodings of horrible disaster. "What, haven't you heard?" cried Ellen, pitying from the bottom of her heart the child's white face and terrified eyes. "No! What? Oh, tell me quickly! What has happened? To father--" "I don't know exactly myself," said Ellen. "That's what I was hurrying up to find out.... Your father...he's had some sort of fight with that horrible man Hogg in the High Street.... No, I don't know...But wait a minute...." Joan was gone, scurrying through the Precincts, the paper bag with the fruit clutched tightly to her.