A moment or two elapsed.
Bobo was a freed negro, who was the privileged servant of Jarriquez. He did not appear; it was evident that Bobo was afraid to come into his master’s room.
Another ring at the bell; another call to Bobo, who, for his own safety, pretended to be deaf on this occasion. And now a third ring at the bell, which unhitched the crank and broke the cord.
This time Bobo came up. “What is it, sir?” asked Bobo, prudently waiting on the threshold.
“Advance, without uttering a single word!” replied the judge, whose flaming eyes made the negro quake again.
Bobo advanced.
“Bobo,” said Jarriquez, “attend to what I say, and answer immediately; do not even take time to think, or I——”
Bobo, with fixed eyes and open mouth, brought his feet together like a soldier and stood at attention.
“Are you ready?” asked his master.
“I am.”