Liberty Bar (18 page)

‘… go home!' Ducrau said
again in a fury.

There was a feeling that if they went on
opposing his wishes he might turn very nasty and even summon up enough strength to stand
up and set about those crowding round him.

‘Go easy!' exclaimed the
doctor. ‘You'll make the wound bleed.'

But the man with the bull's neck
didn't care, he had suddenly had enough of lying flat on his back in the middle of
a lot of gawping people.

‘Take him home,' sighed the
police chief with a gesture of resignation.

The stretcher from Lock No. 1 had been
brought. Ducrau didn't want to be carried on a stretcher. He growled a refusal.
They had to carry him by his arms, legs and shoulders. While he was being helped away,
he looked angrily at the bystanders, and the bystanders made way because they were
afraid of him.

The procession crossed the street. The
police chief called a halt.

‘Hold it there. I must go up and
warn his wife.'

He rang the bell while the men who were
carrying him waited under the green gaslight which marked the stop for trams and
buses,

Meanwhile, a number of
boatmen were having a very hard time carrying old Gassin across the gangplank of the
Golden Fleece.
He was dead drunk. He had also cut his hand on a shard of
glass from the bottle.

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