I'm not anxious to stroll about this neighbourhood--out with
it!"

The Beard said in a joking tone:

"You don't suspect, then? Speak out, Jules!..."

Jules--for it was indeed he--shook his head.

"My word, I have no idea what you want!... Who wrote to me this morning?
Ernestine?"

Neither the Beadle nor Beard replied.

The three men stood talking in the deserted street, bending their heads
and backs under the rain, which was now pouring harder than ever.

"Come on then! Make haste!" said Jules. "Come now, tell me what's the
point--what's up--spit it out, comrades!... I don't want to be soaked to
the skin, you know!"

The Beadle forced the pace: he lifted his great hairy sinewy hand,
brought it down heavily on Jules' shoulder, and in a changed voice,
harsh, rough, imperative, he commanded:

"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!

Jules uttered a faint groan; but, half stifled, nearly strangled, he had
not the strength to attempt the slightest self-defence.

Directly he was flung backwards on the ground, where he measured his
length and lay nearly stunned, Beard jumped on him, knelt on his chest,
and pinioned him. Jules lay motionless.

The Beard now began tying up the legs of their victim.

"Pass me a scarf!"

"There it is, old 'un!"

"Very good, I am going to apply a 'Be Discreet.'"

The "Be Discreet" of the Beard was a gag, which he rolled round the
servant's head in expert fashion.

"Feet firm?" asked the Beard.