It would not be gainsaid, and when the soldiers tried to close the window, twenty angry fists broke the panes of glass.
"I can't finish this writing in your lingo, sir, whilst this demmed row is going on," said Sir Percy placidly.
"You have not much more to write, Sir Percy," urged Chauvelin with nervous impatience, "I pray you, finish the matter now, and get you gone from out this city." "Send that demmed lot away, then," rejoined Sir Percy calmly.
"They won't go....

They want to see you..." Sir Percy paused a moment, pen in hand, as if in deep reflection.
"They want to see me," he said with a laugh.

"Why, demn it all...

then, why not let em ?..." And with a few rapid strokes of the pen, he quickly finished the letter, adding his signature with a bold flourish, whilst the crowd, pushing, jostling, shouting and cursing the soldiers, still loudly demanded to see the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Chauvelin felt as if his heart would veritably burst with the wildness of its beating.
Then Sir Percy, with one hand lightly pressed on the letter, pushed his chair away and with his pleasant ringing voice, said once again: "Well! demn it...

let 'em see me!..." With that he sprang to his feet and up to his full height, and as he did so he seized the two massive pewter candlesticks, one in each hand, and with powerful arms well outstretched he held them high above his head.
"The letter..." murmured Chauvelin in a hoarse whisper.
But even as he was quickly reaching out a hand, which shook with the intensity of his excitement, towards the letter on the table, Blakeney, with one loud and sudden shout, threw the heavy candlesticks onto the floor.