"I recommend you moderate your tone," said Eliza. "Voices carry out into the street; and lurking there in ’Change Alley are any number of City men who have heard all the rumors about the insolvency of the Hacklhebers. When I step out that door, I shall be interrogated like a prisoner on the Inquisition’s rack. They will know whether the Hacklhebers have been able to honour their obligations, or not. Through the generous intercession of Monsieur Durand, it will be possible for me to answer in the affirmative." Eliza half-turned toward the door and rested a gloved hand on the latch. The room grew perceptibly darker as a Mobb of ’Change-men on the street outside noted her gesture, and drew closer to the windows, blocking out the light. Eliza continued: "This talk of yours about four hundred thousand livres here or there is quite lost on me; I am a mere housewife with no head for numbers." She flexed her wrist and the door-latch made a clicking noise, a bit like the cocking of a flintlock. A volcanic up-welling of German sounded from the rear of the shop; Eliza could not quite follow what was being said, but suddenly the barrister spun to face her and announced: "My client is pleased to accept the proposal, pending resolution of the terms in detail."