I had to start the infernal thing, and there might be shooting.
I waited by the car till I saw them reach the right distance.

I could hear voices from the second floor of the house and footsteps moving up and down.

I was in a fever of anxiety, for any moment a man might come to the window.

Then I flung myself on the starting handle and worked like a demon.
The cold made the job difficult, and my heart was in my mouth, for the noise in that quiet place must have woke the dead.

Then, by the mercy of Heaven, the engine started, and I sprang to the driving seat, released the clutch, and opened the throttle.