man would have been killed on the spot. Laurent had half strangled him, and in both of his clenched fists he clutched Saint-Fardier's pepper and salt whiskers.
While several of the employes were overpowering Laurent, whose rage had not been satisfied, some of their comrades had hurried the wounded man, mad with fear, into Béjard's private office, where he did not stop moaning and calling the police.
The provoking and unnatural words of Saint-Fardier had been heard by others beside Laurent, and, learning what was taking place, the crowd outside partook of his indignation and would have torn to shreds the policeman who dared try and arrest him. It threatened even to drag the partners from the retreat and execute immediate justice upon them. So that Béjard, hearing the thunder of hoots and calls from the crowd, thought it prudent to push Laurent into the street and return him to his terrible friends. Then, in the excitement produced by the reappearance of the hostage, Béjard quickly shut the door behind him. Dismissing his men for the rest of the day, he dragged the pitiable Saint-Fardier through a back door into a little deserted alley bordered by shops and warehouses, from which they regained, not without tacking about to avoid the quays and too frequented streets, their residences in the new city.
"We shall catch that loafer again!" said Béjard to Saint-Fardier, who was rubbing his bleeding cheeks with his handkerchief, as they hurried along. "We can't think of locking him up. We can't even think of it for a long time to come, old fellow, for this little accident has already made too much noise, and it wouldn't be good to have the law prying too closely into our business. Wait till these dogs have finished
