"You'll have only yourself to blame, mind!… I'm going to count three: one, two—"
"But what's it all about?" bellowed Don Luis.
"Prefect's orders, received just now."
"What orders?"
"To take you to the lockup if the Florence girl escaped us again."
"Have you a warrant?"
"I have."
"And what next?"
"What next? Nothing: the Sante—the examining magistrate—"
"But, hang it all, the tiger's making tracks meanwhile! Oh, rot! Is it possible to be so dense? What mugs those fellows are! Oh, dash it!"