failing strength he rained short-arm blows on the Italian's face, until it was turned sideways and crushed against his neck and shoulder.
John Bull mistook the bully's action.
"If you bite his throat, I'll shoot you, Rivoli," he shouted, and applauding cheers followed the threat.
The muscles of Rivoli's back and arms tightened and bunched as he strained with all his strength. Slowly but surely he bent further over, drawing the Englishman's body closer and closer in his embrace.
To John Bull, the seconds seemed years. Complete silence reigned. Rupert's blows weakened and became feeble. They ceased. Rivoli bent over further. As Rupert's right arm fell to his side, the Italian seized it from behind. His victim was now absolutely powerless and motionless. John Bull was reminded of a boa-constrictor which he had once seen crush a deer. Suddenly the Italian's left arm was withdrawn, his right arm continuing to imprison Rupert's left while his right hand retained his grip of the other. Thrusting his left hand beneath the Englishman's chin he put all his colossal strength into one great effort—pushing the head back until it seemed that the neck must break, and at the same time contracting his great right arm and bending himself almost double. He then raised his opponent and dashed him to the ground….
Reginald Rupert recovered consciousness in the Legion's Hospital.
A skilful, if somewhat brutal, surgeon soon decided that his back was not broken but only badly sprained.
On leaving hospital, a fortnight later, he did eight days salle de police by way of convalescence.
