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Slowly, like the agonizingly slow plastic creep of metal under great pressure, the gorilla-faced giant was yielding. His dark skin became mottled. His breath came gaspingly. His rope-knotted arms slipped a little. But it was not in him to surrender, which might still have saved his life.
Barlow was troubling over the problem of the gorilla-faced man, and thinking how close he had been to death all but gone out except for that figure in his arms that was so like a lotus; and the death would have meant not just the forfeit of his life, but that his duty, the mission he was upon for his own people, the British government, had been jeopardised by his participation in some native affair of strife, something he had nothing to do with.
As he did so another kick made him stagger to his feet gasping with pain. A gorilla-faced constable greeted him with a savage grin. "Phwat d'ye mane, ye blayguard, indaycently exposing yersilf in this parrt av th' doomane? Oi've as good a moind as iver a man had in the wurrld to run yez in. Can't ye find anither place to unthdress yersilf in, ye low vaygrant?" Ned did not answer.
All at once the tautness went out of her, and Sira leaned against the wall, divided between laughing and crying. "Tolto and his good friends were looking for you," the big man rumbled anxiously. "The teletabloids said there was a riot coming " He got no further. The gorilla-faced pursuer catapulted himself sideways through the portal, being too wide to go through in the regular way.
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