Tristram leapt forward indignantly and caught one of these ruffians a blow on the back of the neck that sent him down like an ox.

Upon this the other three dropped their sport and fell upon him, like angry women, tooth and nail.

Nobody interfered.

He was driven back against the wall, where he leant, just contriving to keep his adversaries at arm's length with his fists, and feeling, now that the first spurt of wrath had left him, that within three minutes he must faint from hunger and weakness.
There is no knowing how the affair would have ended had not the door been thrown open at this moment.

A couple of priests advanced between the files of prisoners, who sat up at once and started to howl out a dismal litany at the top of their lungs.