“I got more ob dat when yer needs it,” he said, as he turned away.
But she did not hear him. She snatched the paper, opened it, and threw the contents into her mouth.
The court was sinking to sleep. One by one the lighted windows went blank. The women at the washbench got to their feet. One yawned noisily, and another knocked her clay pipe out on the flags in a shower of sparks. Then a voice came clearly—the one that had complained before about the crap game.
“I ain’t sayin’ ef it conjer, er jus’ plain loaded dice. All I gots tuh say is dat dam nigger, Porgy, steal my Sam’ wages off him now t’ree week runnin’.”
Out of the shadows and across the moonlit square a figure flashed, gesturing wildly.
The women leapt back. The one who had done the talking screamed once, the shrill note echoing around the walls. The advancing figure closed convulsive hands upon her shoulders and snatched her body forward. Wide, red-lit eyes glared into her face. A voice half sobbed, half screamed, “Yuh say dat ’bout Porgy? Yuh say Porgy is t’ief?”
The victim was young and strong. She tore the hands from her shoulders and raised her arms before her face. One of the other women reached out to seize the intruder, but was met with a glare so insanely malignant that she retreated screaming.
Above them windows were leaping to light. Dark bodies strained from sills. Feet sounded, running down clapping dilapidated stairways. A shrill, long, terrifying shriek cut across the growing noise, and the women clinched and fell. Bystanders rushed to intervene, and became involved. Always in the centre of the storm a maddened woman whirled like a dervish and called horribly upon her God, striking and clawing wildly.
The babel became terrific. The entire population of the court contributed to the general confusion. In the rooms above, children wailed out a nameless terror.
Suddenly over the tumult sounded the gong of the patrol wagon, and through the gateway half-a-dozen policemen advanced with pistols out, and clubs ready.