" All at once
I heard a stifled cry on my right, and, to my horror, I saw Clontarf
dragged over the balustrade in the gripe of a giant, whom I guessed at
once to be the man we had looked for so long. Under cover of the smoke,
he had swung himself up by the balustrade of the staircase, and,
grasping the poor boy's collar as he looked out incautiously from his
shelter, dropped back into the hall, carrying his victim with him.
With a roar of exultation the wild beasts closed round their prey.
Before I had time to think what could be done, I heard, close to my ear,
a blasphemy so awful that it made me start even at that critical moment:
it was Ralph's voice, but I hardly knew it--hoarse and guttural, and
indistinct with passion. Without hesitating an instant, he swung himself
over the balustrade, and lighted on his feet in the midst of the crowd.
They were half drunk with whisky, and maddened by the smell of blood;
but--so great was the terror of Mohun's name--all recoiled when they saw
him thus face to face, his sword bare and his eyes blazing. That
momentary panic saved Clontarf. In a second Ralph had thrown him under
the arch of a deep doorway, and placed himself between the senseless
body and its assailants.
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