He was hit hard under the ear, and went reeling, trying to face

round towards his unseen antagonist. He just managed to keep his

feet, and he struck a vain counter in the air. Then he was hit

again under the jaw, and sprawled headlong on the ground. In

another moment a knee compressed his diaphragm, and a couple of

eager hands gripped his throat, but the grip of one was weaker than

the other; he grasped the wrists, heard a cry of pain from his

assailant, and then the spade of the navvy came whirling through

the air above him, and struck something with a dull thud. He felt

a drop of moisture on his face. The grip at his throat suddenly

relaxed, and with a convulsive effort, Kemp loosed himself, grasped

a limp shoulder, and rolled uppermost. He gripped the unseen elbows

near the ground. "I've got him!" screamed Kemp. "Help! Help--hold!

He's down! Hold his feet!"

In another second there was a simultaneous rush upon the struggle,

and a stranger coming into the road suddenly might have thought an

exceptionally savage game of Rugby football was in progress. And

there was no shouting after Kemp's cry--only a sound of blows

and feet and heavy breathing.

Then came a mighty effort, and the Invisible Man threw off a couple

of his antagonists and rose to his knees. Kemp clung to him in

front like a hound to a stag, and a dozen hands gripped, clutched,

and tore at the Unseen. The tram conductor suddenly got the neck

236

The Invisible Man