He fell with three separate soft sounds to the street, with his right side against the concrete wall of a house. He fell on his back. He rose again in the middle, resting on his right hand and on his heels. He brandished his left hand towards Gypo and at the same time he tried to grip a fleeing spectator with it. Then he moaned and subsided again. “Run, Gypo,” said somebody. Gypo ran towards a lane at a fast run. He was followed by a crowd. Others gathered around the fallen policeman. Gypo halted at the far end of the lane, in a dark corner. The crowd gathered around him. Everybody was panting with excitement. They all stared down the lane towards the blaze of light where the policeman lay. They began to jabber. “I can see trouble comin’,” said one. “The sojers ’ll be here shortly. Then yer goin’ to see some pluggin’.” “Gwan,” said another contemptuously. “There’s no sojers goin’ to come down here. Ye wouldn’t get a sojer in the town to dare come within a mile of Titt Street on this blessed night, after what happened to-day.” At the mention of “what happened to-day,” a man cursed, a woman crossed herself piously under her shawl, an angry silence fell. Gypo stood with his hands in his pockets, paying no heed to the talk. With his lips stuck out, he was looking gloomily down the lane towards the blaze of light. He was enjoying himself immensely. “Hist, hist!” somebody cried. “Look, look.” Two policemen crossed the blaze of light, bearing their fallen comrade between them. A few women and small boys followed them. Then two more policemen came, hauling along the man whom Gypo had struck. They were dragging him unceremoniously, holding him by the armpits, with his feet trailing along the ground and his arms dangling. They were probably under the impression that it was he who had felled their comrade. The man made an effort to wrench himself free, but they tightened their hold on his arms. He writhed and went limp again, allowing himself to be dragged lifelessly. A woman, with straggling red hair and a child on her back in a black shawl, danced in front of the policemen, screaming and gesticulating, demanding the man’s release. Then the procession passed out of sight with a mad rush of feet and a medley of indiscriminate noises. “Let’s go back,” muttered a young man who had a slight hump.