Three other foreigners were scrambling to get out when Casey stopped them with a yell that froze them quiet where they were.
"Hey! You stay right where y'are! I gotta deliver yuh up to the Bluebird in a minute." There were chatterings and gesticulations in the tonneau.

Out of the gabble a shrill voice rose be-seechingly in English.

"We will _walk_, meester'.

If you _pleese_, meester! We are 'fraid for ride wit' dees may_chine_, meester!" Casey was nettled by the cackling and the thigh-slapping of the audience on the sidewalk.

He reached for his stage whip, and missing it used his ready Irish fists.