Charlot quietly thrust his hand into his breast and drew out a pistol, levelling it at the hag’s head.
“If you move one finger,� he said grimly, “you are dead. Babet, take her knife and loose mademoiselle.�
But Babet would not touch her. She made a wide circle to avoid any contact, and drawing a knife from her own wallet, began to cut the bands about Rosaline’s feet and hands, all the while pouring out a torrent of sympathy and self-reproach. Why had she left her lamb to fall among wolves?
Rosaline was too faint for any words except a murmur of thanksgiving, and the air was filled with Mère Tigrane’s oaths as she writhed helpless before le Bossu’s pistol. He was watching Babet.
“Do not cut the long rope,� he said grimly; “untie it—we have need of it.�
At this, la Louve began to howl, rocking to and fro.
“You villain!� she whined, “you dare not hang me! M. de Baudri is coming; you will be punished—� She went on with a stream of oaths.
Le Bossu stopped her. “Another word,� he said, “and I’ll shoot you. You will not be hung, though you deserve it. Babet, stuff those dirty rags in her mouth, we have heard enough.�
Babet obeyed this time, first relieving the hag of her knife and binding her hands.
“There’s some dinner for you to chew, my beauty,� Babet said pleasantly, and proceeded to tie her feet.