Chauvelin reflected for a moment.
"Will your horse and cart be safe alone, here, do you think?"
he asked roughly.
"I fancy, citoyen," here interposed Desgas, "that they will be
safer without that dirty, cowardly Jew than with him. There seems no
doubt that, if he gets scared, he will either make a bolt of it, or
shriek his head off."
"But what am I to do with the brute?"
"Will you send him back to Calais, citoyen?"
"No, for we shall want him to drive back the wounded presently,"
said Chauvelin, with grim significance.
There was a pause again--Desgas waiting for the decision of
his chief, and the old Jew whining beside his nag.
"Well, you lazy, lumbering old coward," said Chauvelin at
last, "you had better shuffle along behind us. Here, Citoyen Desgas,
tie this handkerchief tightly round the fellow's mouth."
Chauvelin handed a scarf to Desgas, who solemnly began winding
it round the Jew's mouth. Meekly Benjamin Rosenbaum allowed himself
to be gagged; he, evidently, preferred this uncomfortable state to
that of being left alone, on the dark St. Martin Road. Then the three
men fell in line.
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