"Kill her! Take her away!"
François laughed. "Out of this, hag!" and he laughed again.
"I know that man," she cried. "Sacré, but he is scared, the coward! I remind him of old times. He must pay—pay, or I will fetch the police. He knows me. Out with the money! Empty your pockets!"
François shouted: "What, Mother Puzzlebones, dost thou think to scare an old dog of the Cité? Art fit to be mother-in-law of Satan. Out with thee! Out of this, I say! Here is to buy flesh to cover thy rattlebone carcass." He threw two francs before her.
The Crab stood up, and beat with her sticks on the table. "No francs! It is gold I will have—red louis, or I will set the police on thee, and on the fat fool yonder. I will find that girl of his. She must be fit to sell by this time. A beauty was her mother."
"Kill her! Kill her!" said Pierre, wrath in his words, fear in their tremor. Of a sudden he seized a stool, and, mad with some memory of wrong, leaped forward. The Crab faced him with courage, as François tore away the stool, and pushed him back. "No murder here. Keep quiet, idiot! And as to thee, thou gutter Crab, out of this!"
Upon this, Toto set up a dismal howl, and made at the old woman. A rousing whack from her stick sent him howling under the bed, where he sat pensive. Then she turned on François.
"Look here," she said; "thou hast some sense. That ass has none. Let us talk. Thou canst give me money or let it alone. You both know me. A word to the police, and up goes the little show."
"Very likely."
"Then make a bargain. Pay me, and I hold my tongue. No use to call me names."