Four pairs of hands, which had been dragging on the woman's arm with such determined force, disappeared precipitately into the darkness, and thus suddenly released, the woman nearly fell backwards against the gate.
"Pity!" said the dulcet voice gently, "that bet will never be decided now."
An angry murmur of protest rose from the crowd. The four men who had been the leaders of the gang were pushed forward from the rear amidst shouts of derision and brandishing fists.
"Cowards! cowards! cowards! Jan Tiele, art not ashamed? Piet, go for them! There are only three! Cowards to let yourselves be bullied!"
The crowd pushed from behind. The street being narrow, it could only express its desire for a fight by murmurs and by shouts, it had no elbow-room for it, and could only urge those in the forefront to pick a quarrel with the interfering strangers.
"The blessing of God upon thee, stranger, and of the Holy Virgin...." came in still quivering accents from out the darkness of the passage.
"Let the Holy Virgin help thee to hold thy tongue," retorted he who had name Diogenes, "and do thou let my friend Socrates close this confounded door."
"Jan Tiele!" shouted someone in the crowd, "dost see what they are doing? the gate is being closed...."
"And bolted," said a flute-like voice.
"Stand aside, strangers!" yelled the crowd.