“Quick， Digory. This must be stopped，” said a voice beside him. It was Polly， who had rushed down the moment she was allowed out of bed.
“You are a brick，” said Digory. “Hold on to me tight. You’d have to manage the ring. Yellow， remember. And don‘t put it on till I shout.”
There was a second crash and another policeman crumpled up. There came an angry roar from the crowd： “Pull her down. Get a few paving.stones. Call out theMilitary.” But most of them were getting as far away as they could. The Cabby， however， obviously the bravest as well as the kindest person present， was keeping close to the horse， dodging this way and that to avoid the bar， but still trying to catch Strawberry’s head.
The crowd booed and bellowed again. A stone whistled over Digory‘s head. Then came the voice of the Witch， clear like a great bell， and sounding as if， for once， she were almost happy.
“Scum！ You shall pay dearl y for this when I ha ve conquered your world. Not one stone of your city will be left. I will make it as Charn， as Felinda， as Sorlois， as Bramandin.”