"We've got 'im this time, boys," exclaimed the rough. "He's done."
But here there was an unlooked-for interruption. The woman whose voice had lured Jim to his destruction ran forward and confronted the leader of the gang.
She was a flower-seller, and had the healthy complexion common to her open-air calling. A thick mane of black hair hung over her eyes, and she was ill-kempt and shabby, but she was not wholly without grace of form or feature.
"You said it was an old gent coming up for rent. You lied. It's the tall doctor."
The Hooligan glared at her.
"Well,--wot then?"
"If I'd known it was 'im, I'd 'ave warned 'im, that's wot! 'E saved my baby's life. You shan't touch 'im again."
The Hooligan waved her off without ceremony.
"Shut your silly mouth, will you! It's done now. Get back over there, or I'll treat you as I've treated 'im."
Appalled by his tone, the woman shrank back to the gloomy corner whence she had emerged.