"Don't let him kid you," cried a derisive voice.
"Never heard of her, but I met four kings last night," yelled another.
"Call the Marquis of Queensberry," shouted still a third.
"Countess Courteau!" repeated the chairman, using his hands for a megaphone.
The cry was taken up by other throats. "Countess Courteau! Countess
Courteau!" they mocked. "Come, Countess! Nice Countess! Pretty
Countess!" There was a ribald note to this mockery which caused
Phillips' eyes to glow.
"She and the count have just left the palace. Let's get along with the hangin'," one shrill voice demanded.
"You won't hang me!" Phillips retorted, angrily.
"Be not so sure," taunted the acting judge. "Inasmuch as your countess appears to be constituted of that thin fabric of which dreams are made; inasmuch as there is no such animal—"
"Hol' up!" came a peremptory challenge. "M'sieu Jodge!" It was the big French Canadian whom Pierce had met on the crest of the divide; he came forward now, pushing his resistless way through the audience. "Wat for you say dere ain't nobody by dat name, eh?" He turned his back to the committee and addressed the meeting. "Wat for you hack lak dis, anyhow? By gosh! I heard 'bout dis lady! She's ol'-timer lak me."
"Well, trot her out! Where is she?"