“In that case,” replied Harrington, gravely, “there’s nothing for it but a desperate fight. I shall tell them of the illegality of their proceeding, and try to frighten them into giving up Antony. If they refuse, I shall fall on them like a fury. Here’s Bagasse has been training me for years, and I think I should do credit to his training even with seven men.”
“Missr Harrin’ton,” said Bagasse, with a grimace, “you do me one favor. No, pardieu, I take zat favor. Look. I go wis you. Zat is settle. Zen if ze seven men wish zoo fight, zey sall fight wis you and me, and zey find out, by dam, zat we is fourteen!”
“Bravo, you old Gascon!” cried Wentworth, slapping him on the shoulder. “Let him go, Harrington. Don’t refuse.”
“But, Bagasse,” said Harrington, “you have a wife, and I can’t consent that you should put your life in danger on my affair.”
“Chut! poo, poo!” answered the fencing-master. “Ex-cuse me, Missr Harrin’ton, but zat is feedelstick! You haf ze beautifool, dear ladee wife, and I take care of you for her. Good. Zat is well. Now I go wis you.”
“Don’t deny him, Harrington,” pleaded Wentworth. “Come, let’s arrange the rest of this matter. Where do we start from?”
“Long Wharf, at about twelve o’clock,” replied Harrington. “Whoever gets to the boat first will wait for the rest. Then about landing. Faith, it won’t do to land at Long Wharf, if any of us gets hurt. We shall have the night police asking questions if they see one of us limp. Besides, the less seen of Antony the better. We must land at South Boston, where it’s lonely as a desert.”
“And walk over to the city!” asked Wentworth, with a laugh.
“No, we must have a carriage,” replied Harrington. “Now who’s going to drive the carriage out and wait there with it? I can’t, for I must go in the boat.”