‘A dozen at least!’ repeated he, in an accent of wonderment. ‘Ma foi, a very formidable gang. Do you remember any of their names?’
‘Devil take their names! how should I know them? Come, cut these cords, will you? We can talk just as well when I ‘m free.’
‘Not so fast, not so fast,’ said he, admonishing me with a bland motion of his hand. ‘Everything must be done in order. Now, since you don’t know their names, we must put them down as “parties unknown.”’
‘Put them down whatever you like; but let me loose!’
‘All in good time. Let us proceed regularly. Who are your witnesses?’
‘Witnesses!’ screamed I, overcome with passion; ‘you’ll drive me distracted! I tell you I was waylaid in the wood by a party of scoundrels, and you ask me for their names, and then for my witnesses! Cut these cords, and don’t be so infernally stupid! Come, old fellow, look alive, will you?’
‘Softly, softly; don’t interrupt public justice,’ said he, with a most provoking composure. ‘We must draw up the procès-verbal.’
‘To be sure,’ said I, endeavouring to see what might be done by concurrence with him, ‘nothing more natural But let me loose first; and then we ‘ll arrange the procès.’
‘Not at all; you’re all wrong,’ interposed he. ‘I must have two witnesses first, to establish the fact of your present position; ay, and they must be of sound mind, and able to sign their names.’
‘May Heaven grant me patience, or I’ll burst!’ said I to myself, while he continued in a regular sing-song tone—