They were rumbling across the cobbles of Rotwang Bridge as the madman grappled with Osgood, frightening the horses, who began to run across the uneven paving. The cart tipped just as Osgood was rising in his seat to get a grip on the man. The two of them flew together off the cart and nearly off the bridge: the railing caught them each in the belly and they hung there, the breath battered out of them, while the horses ran on.
The madman reached for Osgood's throat and wrestled him over the railing. "I'll have your cart and the Orb," he gasped. "I'll reach my ship and take the Orb home - it will make me a wealthy man! A famous man!"
The clockmaker's muscles had spent what little power they had; Osgood could feel himself tipping over the edge of the railing. Far, far below him he saw the white waters of Rotwang River boiling over the rocks.
"You can have your blasted globe," Osgood groaned. "I wasn't going to keep it anyway."
The thundering waters below them were at once outdone by a rushing, roaring sound from overhead. As the sound passed over them there was a thunderclap and a brilliant burst of light. The madman let go of Osgood and gaped upward.
The clockmaker might have rolled aside to safety. It's likely that he should have done just that. But Osgood, who had never once been beaten or threatened in his life, felt a white spike of anger well up in him and he did something he would never have believed of himself. He kicked the stranger off the bridg
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