Suddenly, a tall youth burst through from behind and snatched the purse from the man’s hands. . . .
“Help, my purse!” the man cried. . . .
Gerrad glanced back. The thief was getting away. He ought to follow him but what about Leth? Oh! Oh! What to do?
What would Gom do? Gerrad took off pell-mell down the cobbled slope.
