Tugmutton, who had just lifted his short, knurly leg for a kick, which would have been like the kick of a Shetland pony, let his foot fall, and stood, his broad limbs all dispread, and his blobber-cheeks puffed out with rage under his shocks of wool. Harrington’s eye was on him, or he would have given the enemy of his race a parting thump of one sort or another; but as it was, he slunk off in the sulks to the adjoining room. “See here, gentlemen,” said Brown, addressing the motley group of negroes, who now stood fierce and open-mouthed, rolling their eyes upon the slaveholder, “I’ve got something to say to you. There’s a lady here, and what you’ve got to do is to behave like gentlemen.” There was instantly great confusion of elaborate ducking and bowing to the lady, Muriel having come from the inner room as Brown spoke. She acknowledged their grotesque and extravagant politeness by smiling and curtseying, which set them all going again with the added grace of much good-natured grinning, and some spruce strutting on the part of the younger men, especially the mulattoes. One could not help noticing, as part of the general effect, the contrast between this facile affability and anxious desire to please, and the uncouth and outlandish figures of these courtiers, every one of whom had something singular and nondescript about his apparel or bearing. “Now gentlemen,” pursued Brown, after an embarrassed pause, in which he kept moving his hand over his mouth as one in doubt what to say next, “the reason I’ve asked you in here is because I’ve most especial confidence in you. Fact is, gentlemen, we shall all get into trouble and have the police down on us, unless we get that man there off safe. That’s got to be done, gentlemen, and you’ve got to do it. What you’ve got to do, gentlemen, is to form in a hollow square, and put him in the middle of you, and walk him off handsome, to a carriage round the corner.” They all stood staring open-mouthed with eyes revolving wildly at the speaker. Lafitte, coming to his senses again, was in an agony of apprehension, while both Muriel and Harrington stood with throbbing hearts. “Deacon Massey,” said Brown with some pomposity of manner, “what’s your opinion as to whether this thing can be done?” Deacon Massey, an elderly colored man of pragmatical aspect, with two bunches of white wool protruding from under an old cap which he wore on the back of his head, and with a general flavor of antiquity in his shabby garments, instantly assumed an air of the profoundest deliberation. “It my ’pinion, Brother Brown,” he said, with a very important air, after a long pause, “that this thing can be done if these yer brethren’ll put their trust in the Lord and stick together.” There was an instant burst of declarations from the entire group that they would trust the Lord and stick together, and do the thing in first rate style. “All right, gentlemen,” said Brown. “Now form.”