"Bear witness, you, sir, the police officer, and you, my good people."
"We are not good people, you damned old shopkeeper!" was heard in the creaking tones of "Scraps."
The police officer, distending his face like a bladder, was whistling wildly, whilst defending Petounnikoff, who was writhing and twisting about in front of him, as if wishing to get inside the officer for protection.
"You vile thing! I'll make you kiss the feet of this dead body if you don't mind! Come here with you!"
And seizing Petounnikoff by the collar, Kouvalda flung him out of the door, as he would have done a kitten.
The outcasts moved on one side to make room for the merchant to fall; and he pitched forward, frightened and yelling at their feet.
"They are killing me! Murder! They have killed me!"
Martianoff slowly lifted his foot, and took aim at the head of the shopkeeper; "Scraps," with an expression of extreme delight, spat full into the face of Petounnikoff. The merchant raised himself on to his hands and knees, and half rolled, half dragged himself farther out into the yard, followed by peals of laughter. At this moment two constables arrived in the yard, and the police officer, pointing to Kouvalda, exclaimed in a voice of triumph—
"Arrest him! Tie him up!"
"Yes, tie him up tightly, my dears!" implored Petounnikoff.