'Be quaite, Maud. If you are angry, they will hurt us; leave me to speak,'
whispered the gouvernante.
All this time they were approaching from separate points. I glanced back,
and saw the ruffianly-looking man within a yard or two, with his arm raised
and one finger up, telegraphing, as it seemed, to the gentlemen in front.
'Be quaite, Maud,' whispered Madame, with an awful adjuration, which I do
not care to set down. 'They are teepsy; don't seem 'fraid.'
I _was_ afraid--terrified. The circle had now so narrowed that they might
have placed their hands on my shoulders.
'Pray, gentlemen, wat you want? _weel_ a you 'av the goodness to permit us
to go on?'
I now observed for the first time, with a kind of shock, that the shorter
of the two men, who prevented our advance, was the person who had accosted
me so offensively at Church Scarsdale. I pulled Madame by the arm,
whispering, 'Let us run.'
'Be quaite, my dear Maud,' was her only reply.
'I tell you what,' said the tall man, who had replaced his high hat more
jauntily than before on the side of his head, 'We've caught you now, fair
game, and we'll let you off on conditions.
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