"You must follow us!" Already he had his man fast. The unsuspicious Jules did not grasp the situation in the least.
"Follow you?" he asked. "As to that, certainly not!... No more walking for me in such weather. Wait for a sunny day, say I!... But whatever is the matter with you—eh?... What?... Why are you sticking out your jaws at me like this? Out with it, my lambs!... Where am I to follow you?... You won't say, Messieurs Beadle and Beard?
"You won't say?..."
Beard moved a step and got behind Jules unnoticed. He repeated in the same tone, harsh, threatening:
"You've got to follow us, I tell you!"
Instinctively Jules tried to turn round. The Beadle's strong grip kept him motionless. Then he understood. He was afraid.
"What's come to you?" he cried in a trembling voice.
The Beadle cut him short.
"Enough! Will you follow us? Yes or no?"
Jules was going to say "no!" but he had not the time! Quick as lightning the Beadle flung a long scarf round his neck, stuck his knee into his victim's back, and pulled!