With that, the Inspector dashed the thug's weapon aside and closed with him.
Sergeant Kellett, waiting with the line behind, saw the youngster struggling furiously, in a turmoil of snow, and the mob closing. Instantly, he doubled his men forward. A row of levelled carbines came suddenly to Gemmell's rescue.
"Stand back, you!" ordered Kellett hotly. "Or I'll open fire!" A roaring mass, the toughs swayed to and fro before that slender barrier. Between them, as on common ground, Gemmell and his antagonist rolled and struggled.
Sergeant Kellett whipped out his handcuffs, watching his chance to plunge into the fight.
But out of the scurry of snow came Gemmell, at that instant—smiling and on top! His face was lacerated, the tough kicking and clawing like a mad dog. Gemmell had pitched the revolver out of reach in the first struggle.
"Leave him, Sergeant!" he implored. "He's my meat!"
Then—click!—pulling a pair of hand-cuffs from his own pocket—the arrest was a fact accomplished.
To get back with their prisoner to the post was the work of a moment. The crowd, now lacking determined leadership, wavered. The arrest left them dazed.
"All ready?"
The machine-gun crew and the men at the barrier nodded.