Nick turned from him. "Come along, Olga! They are not here evidently.
It's no use trying to get any sense out of this drunken beast."
"But, Nick—" said Olga in distress.
"We will go down to the shore," he said. "Here, you Briggs! Stand back, will you?"
Briggs was blocking the narrow passage with his great bull-frame, and showed no disposition to let them pass. He seemed to think he had a grievance, and he commenced to state it in a rambling, disjointed fashion, holding them prisoners on the stairs while he did so.
Nick bore with him for exactly ten seconds, and then, clean and straight, with lightning swiftness, his one hand shot forward. It was a single hard blow, delivered full on the jaw with a force that nearly carried Nick with it, and it sent the offender staggering backwards on his heels in bellowing astonishment. The opposite wall saved him from falling headlong, but the impact was considerable, and tendered him quite incapable of recovering his He subsided slowly onto the floor with a flood of language that at least testified to the fact that his injuries were not severe.
Nick's arm went round Olga in a flash. He almost lifted her over the legs of the prostrate Briggs and hurried her down the passage. As they emerged into the smoky sunlight, she heard him laugh, and marvelled that he could.
"On second thoughts," he said, with the air of one resuming an interrupted discussion, "I think we will go to the Priory. If she is not there, she is probably on the way."
"She would go by the cliffs," Olga said.
"Yes, I know. But Mrs. Briggs is with her. We had better motor," said
Nick.
So they set off again along the glaring road.