silence.

EDSTASTON [gasping]. You shall hear more of this. Damn you, will
you untie me? I will complain to the ambassador. I will write to
the Gazette. England will blow your trumpery little fleet out of
the water and sweep your tinpot army into Siberia for this. Will
you let me go? Damn you! Curse you! What the devil do you mean by
it? I'll--I'll--I'll-- [he is carried out of hearing].

NARYSHKIN [snatching his hands from Claire's face with a scream,
and shaking his finger frantically]. Agh! [The Sergeant, amazed,
lets go her hands.] She has bitten me, the little vixen.

CLAIRE [spitting and wiping her mouth disgustedly]. How dare you
put your dirty paws on my mouth? Ugh! Psha!

THE SERGEANT. Be merciful, Little angel Mother.

CLAIRE. Do not presume to call me your little angel mother. Where
are the police?

NARYSHKIN. We are the police in St Petersburg, little spitfire.

THE SERGEANT. God knows we have no orders to harm you, Little
Mother. Our duty is done. You are well and strong; but I shall
never be the same man again. He is a mighty and terrible fighter,
as stout as a bear. He has broken my sweetbread with his strong
knees. God knows poor folk should not be set upon such dangerous
adversaries!