Having now verified his identity by personal inspection, each of the fishwives had to prance out, shedding glitt'ry showers of fish-scales from their flouncing, gut-stained skirts, and dance with Jack – who had no patience for this, but did take advantage of it to whisper into any ear that came close enough, that if he ever had any money, he'd give some of it to whomever could tell him the name of the noble personage who liked to eat rotten fish. But before he could say it more than two or three times, he had to grab his drawers and run away, because a commotion at the other end of Les Halles told him that the Lieutenant of Police was on his way to make a show of force, and to extract whatever bribes, sexual favors, and/or free oysters he could get from the fishwives in exchange for turning a blind eye to this unforgivable brouhaha.