The policeman listened as he examined the wound and helped to staunch the bleeding. “So where’s this Beadle—Hewlett—now?”
“’E went over t’ edge in t’ struggle,” Tommy blurted, and then he realised the implications. “’E were tryin’ ter stick t’ knife inter George as well, see, an’ George kicked ’im.” He looked around. “An’ there were another man—Mister ’Owell marked ’im good wi’ ’is knuckles. ’E’ll be missin’ some teef, and ’e won’t see too good outa ’is eye fer a whiles.”
The constable wasn’t slow, but he considered the information carefully. “So where is this George lad then?”
“’E legged it—’cause ’e saw t’ bastard wot ’ad ’im in t’ place by Vauxhall—t’ one wot burned recent like.”
A second constable joined them and began to clear the crowd.
The first constable frowned. “An’ oo are y
