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Maybold remarked, "Show them in, Jane." Next there came a powerful whisper from the same quarter: "Now stand stock-still there, my sonnies, one and all! And don't make no noise; and keep your backs close to the wall, that company may pass in and out easy if they want to without squeezing through ye: and we two are enough to go in." . . . The voice was the tranter's.
"There, never mind," said Elie Magus; "this Auvergnat seems to be too fond of you to mean to insult you." "How she would draw on the customers!" cried the Auvergnat. Mme. Cibot softened at this. "Be fair, sonnies," quoth she, "and judge for yourselves how I am placed.
"Hold hard, my sonnies; not yet. Let's see how they behave themselves. Stand back." It was evident that the great coarse-looking ruffian had perfect command over the party of black fellows, who shrank back at a word, and waited with glistening eyes, their faces shining in the lamplight. "There," said the man, "you see; so don't be sarcy.
But the words were taken out of his lips by the doctor, who asked the questions angrily. "Eh?" came in a hoarse, raucous voice, as the man rolled forward, with the lamp, till he was near enough to hold it close to the doctor's face, and then to those of the others. "Only three on 'em, then. Don't let 'em go, my sonnies. Now then, you, what do you say? What am I doing here?
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