Taffy saw the row, and shouted, "Bravo, little un!" and jumping up from his table, jostled his way through the crowd; and Little Billee, bleeding and gasping and perspiring and stammering, said:
"He spat in my face, Taffy—damn him! I'd never even spoken to him—not a word, I swear!"
Svengali had not reckoned on Taffy's being there; he recognized him at once, and turned white.
Taffy, who had dog-skin gloves on, put out his right hand, and deftly seized Svengali's nose between his fore and middle fingers and nearly pulled it off, and swung his head two or three times backward and forward by it, and then from side to side, Svengali holding on to his wrist; and then, letting him go, gave him a sounding open-handed smack on his right cheek—and a smack on the face from Taffy (even in play) was no joke, I'm told; it made one smell brimstone, and see and hear things that didn't exist.
Svengali gasped worse than Little Billee, and couldn't speak for a while. Then he said,
"Lâche—grand lâche! che fous enferrai mes témoins!"
"At your orders!" said Taffy, in beautiful French, and drew out his card-case, and gave him his card in quite the orthodox French manner, adding: "I shall be here till to-morrow at twelve—but that is my London address, in case I don't hear from you before I leave. I'm sorry, but you really mustn't spit, you know—it's not done. I will come to you whenever you send for me—even if I have to come from the end of the world."
"Très bien! très bien!" said a military-looking old gentleman close by, who gave Taffy his card, in case he might be of any service—and who seemed quite delighted at the row—and indeed it was really pleasant to note with what a smooth, flowing, rhythmical spontaneity the good Taffy could always improvise these swift little acts of summary retributive justice: no hurry or scurry or flurry whatever—not an inharmonious gesture, not an infelicitous line—the very poetry of violence, and its only excuse!
Whatever it was worth, this was Taffy's special gift, and it never failed him at a pinch.
When the commissaire de police arrived, all was over. Svengali had gone away in a cab, and Taffy put himself at the disposition of the commissaire.