“Shut yer bloomin' fyce,” growled the man, “or I'll bryke every bone in yer body!” He fetched the boy a cuff on the side of the head. It was the first time that Lanny had ever been struck in his whole life, and it had a terrifying effect on him; he became frantic, he twisted and struggled, harder than ever, and shouted at the top of his lungs.
The ruffian began to drag him toward a dark opening leading into a court. Lanny's cries brought people to doors and windows, but not one moved a hand to help him; they just stood and looked. They were interested, but not concerned — as if it were a Punch and Judy show.
But suddenly a door in the court was flung open, and a light streamed upon the scene. A young woman emerged, wild-looking, with tousled black hair and a blouse open at the throat and hanging out at the waist, as if she had put it on in a hurry. When she saw the man and his victim, she darted toward them. “Wot yer doin', Slicer?”
The answer was, “Shut yer silly fyce!” But the girl began shouting louder: “'Ave yer gone barmy, ye bleedin' fool? Carnt yer see the kid's a toff? An' right in front of yer own drum!” When the man continued to drag Lanny into the court, she rushed at him like a wildcat. “Cut it, I sye! Yer'11 'ave the tecs 'ere, an' we'll all do a stretch!”
He called her a “bitch,” and she told the world in return that he was a “muckworm.” When he still wouldn't give up, she began clawing at his face in a fury. He had to take one hand to push her away, and that gave Lanny his chance; with a frantic effort he tore himself loose and dashed for the street.
The crowd gave way; it wasn't theirs to stop him. The man came pounding behind, cursing; but Lanny hadn't been climbing mountains and swimming in the Golfe Juan and practicing Muscovite leaps for nothing. He was built like a deer, whereas the man was heavy and clumsy, and presently he gave up. But the boy didn't stop until he had got to a thoroughfare thronged with long-bearded Jews and curly-headed babies, and having signs that said: “Whitechapel High Street.”
Then a blue uniform, the one sight that could really bring an end to Lanny's terror. The London bobby didn't carry weapons, like the French gendarme, but he was a symbol of the Empire. Lanny waited until he got back his breath and could speak normally, then he approached and said: “Please, would you tell me how to get to the tube?”
The bobby had a large blue helmet, with a strap across his chin. He answered like an automaton: “First t'right, second t'left.” He said it very fast, and when Lanny said: “I beg pardon?” he said it again, even faster than before.
The boy thought it over, and then dropped a delicate hint: “Please, might I walk with you if you're going that way?” It was obviously not the right accent for Whitechapel, and the “copper” looked him over more carefully, and then said: “Right you are, guv'nor.”
They walked together in silent state. When they parted, Lanny wasn't sure if the symbol of the Empire would accept a tip, but he took a chance, and held out a shilling which he had denied to “Slicer.” The symbol took it with one hand and with the other touched his helmet. “Kew!” said he. The visitor had already had it explained to him that this was the second half of “Thank you,” doing duty for the whole.