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- Стр. 947/1273
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The
publican
was
fighting
one
of
the
smiths
at
the
door
,
and
when
the
workmen
came
out
the
smith
,
wrenching
himself
free
from
the
tavern
keeper
,
fell
face
downward
on
the
pavement
.
Another
smith
tried
to
enter
the
doorway
,
pressing
against
the
publican
with
his
chest
.
The
lad
with
the
turned-up
sleeve
gave
the
smith
a
blow
in
the
face
and
cried
wildly
:
"
They
're
fighting
us
,
lads
!
"
At
that
moment
the
first
smith
got
up
and
,
scratching
his
bruised
face
to
make
it
bleed
,
shouted
in
a
tearful
voice
:
"
Police
!
Murder
!
...
They
've
killed
a
man
,
lads
!
"
"
Oh
,
gracious
me
,
a
man
beaten
to
death
--
killed
!
...
"
screamed
a
woman
coming
out
of
a
gate
close
by
.
A
crowd
gathered
round
the
bloodstained
smith
.
"
Have
n't
you
robbed
people
enough
--
taking
their
last
shirts
?
"
said
a
voice
addressing
the
publican
.
"
What
have
you
killed
a
man
for
,
you
thief
?
"
The
tall
lad
,
standing
in
the
porch
,
turned
his
bleared
eyes
from
the
publican
to
the
smith
and
back
again
as
if
considering
whom
he
ought
to
fight
now
.
"
Murderer
!
"
he
shouted
suddenly
to
the
publican
.
"
Bind
him
,
lads
!
"
"
I
daresay
you
would
like
to
bind
me
!
"
shouted
the
publican
,
pushing
away
the
men
advancing
on
him
,
and
snatching
his
cap
from
his
head
he
flung
it
on
the
ground
.
