“In the next few moments I reaped the reward of my strenuous practice at the gymnasium of the art of Jiu-jitsu and the French style of boxing.  Bamber’s advance was the signal.  I had seen the Jew’s hand steal under his coat skirt.  He now made a quick movement—­and so did I. Whisking round, in an instant I had his wrist in that kind of grip that dislocates the elbow-joint, and, as I turned, I planted my foot heavily on Spotty Bamber’s chest.  The swift movement took them all by surprise.  The Jew screamed and dropped his knife, staggering heavily against the cellar door, which swung back on its well-oiled hinges.  Bamber flew backwards like a football, and, as he cannoned against the third man, the two crashed together to the floor.  I thrust the Jew through the open doorway, released his wrist; and then followed a slithering sound from the cellar steps, ending in a soft thump.

“The position was marvelously changed in those few moments.  The Jew, I took it, was eliminated, and the odds thus brought down to a reasonable figure.  As to the other two, though they scrambled to their feet quickly enough, they kept their distance, Bamber in particular having some little difficulty with his breath.  I picked up the concussor and faced them.  If I had been quick, I could have dispatched them both without difficulty.  But I did not.  Once more I was aware of that singular state of consciousness to which I have elsewhere alluded as possessing me in the presence of violent criminals; a vivid pleasure in the mere act of physical contest, perfectly incomprehensible to me in my normal state of mind.  This strange joy now sent the blood surging through my brain until my ears hummed; and yet I kept my judgment, calmly attentive and even wary.

“Thus, when the third ruffian rushed at me with a large sheath-knife, I knocked his hand aside quite neatly with the concussor and drove him out of range with a heavy blow of my left fist.  But at this moment I observed Bamber frantically lugging something from his hip-pocket; something that was certainly not a knife.  It was time for a change of tactics.  Before the third rascal could close with me again, I darted at the open doorway, grasped the rope, and in an instant had swung myself clear of the steps down into the darkness of the cellar.

“In swinging I had turned half round, and, as I alighted, I saw my aggressor, knife in hand, come through the doorway in pursuit.  He had more courage than Spotty but less discretion.  In the haste of his pursuit, he actually sprang over the sill on to the slippery top step, and the next moment was bumping down the stairs like an overturned sack of potatoes.  As he picked himself up, half-stunned, from the prostrate Jew, on whom he had fallen, I regretfully felled him with the concussor.  It was a dull finish to the affair, but there was Bamber’s revolver to be reckoned with.

“To do Mr. Bamber justice, he was not rash.  In fact, he was so unobtrusive that I began to fear that he had made off, and, it being obviously unsafe to go up and ascertain, I proceeded to make a few encouraging demonstrations.