The mob, now considerably increased in numbers, though probably more than a majority, as usual, were merely spectators, hooted violently at the representative of the United States.
The gentleman reached the door of his office, and by this time the ruffians seemed to realize that simple hooting did no harm, and they rushed forward with more serious intentions.

One of them laid violent hands on the consul, seizing him by the back of his coat collar, and attempting to pull him over backwards.

Christy felt that he was under the flag of his country, and his blood boiled with indignation; and, rash as was the act, he planted a heavy blow with his fist under the ear of the assailant, which sent him reeling back among his companions.
"No revolvers, Christophe!" said the detective earnestly, as he placed himself by the side of the young man.
Christy's revolver was in his hip-pocket, where he usually carried it, and the detective feared he might use it, for both of them could hardly withstand the pressure upon them; and the firing of a single shot would have roused the passions of the mob, and led to no little bloodshed.
M.Rubempre was entirely cool and self-possessed, which could hardly be said of the young naval officer.
[Illustration: "He planted a heavy blow with his fist under the ear of his assailant." Page 116.] By this time Mr.Alwayn had opened the front door of the office, and gone in.

The detective backed in after him, and then pushed Christy in after the consul.

The ruffians saw that they were losing their game, and they rushed upon the door.