The reinforcing police speedily settled the matter, and all the Hooligans were soon in custody.
When at length the police were able to draw breath more easily and look around, they found Somers kneeling by his friend. By Jim's side lay the insensible form of the flower-seller who had befriended him with such strange suddenness.
"Jim, old chap! Jim!" cried Koko. "Jim, speak to me."
No sound came from Jim's lips. He lay as he had fallen, with his white face upturned to the ceiling. But that face was without a mark, so well shielded had it been by the woman.
"Here, sir, try this," said one of the police, holding out a pocket-flask.
Quickly Koko unscrewed the top and forced the mouth of the flask between his friend's lips. The raw spirit trickled down Jim's throat, and, to Koko's unspeakable relief, Mortimer opened his eyes.
"Is that--you--old man?"
"Yes, Jim! Here, swallow some more. Oh, Jim," he added, in a trembling voice, "I'm so glad! I thought--you were dead!"
Jim gave a little sigh. "I think they've done for me. I can't move--they've hurt my back...."
Koko shivered, for he knew what Jim meant.