"Indeed, then, he's too small a man for you, and as to myself, we can see about that later," said Shock quietly.
He closed his fingers on the wrist he held. The hand gripping Perault's throat opened quickly, allowing the Frenchman to fall to the floor. Swinging round with a hoarse cry, the big Irishman aimed a terrific blow at Shock's head. But Shock, catching the blow on his arm, drew Carroll sharply toward him, at the same time giving a quick downward twist to the wrist he held, a trick of the Japanese wrestlers the 'Varsity men had been wont to practise. There was a slight crack, a howl of pain, and Carroll sank writhing on the floor, with Shock's grip still on his wrist.
"Let me up," he roared.
"Will you let the little man alone?" asked Shock quietly.
"Let me up, blank ye! It's yer heart's blood will pay for this."
"Will you leave the little man alone?" asked Shock in a relentlessly even tone.
"Yis, yis," groaned Carroll. "Me wrist's bruk, so it is. But Oi'll be afther doin' f'r yez, ye blank, blank—"
Carroll's profanity flowed in a copious stream.
"As to that," said Shock, quietly stepping back from him, "we can discuss that later; but it is a shame for a man like you to be choking a little chap like that."
The old football scrimmage smile was on Shock's face as he stood waiting for Carroll to rise. The whole incident had occurred so unexpectedly and so suddenly that the crowd about stood amazed, quite unable to realise just what had happened.