Bracken's chauffeur lay senseless by the roadside, and one of the "detectives" sat in his seat.

Even as the audience opened its collective mouth to shout its wrath and surprise, the big touring car, with six armed men aboard, leaped away with a rush.

Down the dark road it flew like an express train, its own noise drowning the shouts of the multitude, far behind.
Bonner, recovering from his stupefaction and rage, led the pursuit, first commanding Rosalie to hurry home with the women and lock herself safely indoors.
Anderson Crow, realising what a dupe he had been in the hands of the clever scoundrels, was covered with fear and shame.

The outraged crowd might have killed him had not his escape been made under cover of darkness.

Shivering and moaning in abject misery, the pride of Tinkletown fled unseeing, unthinking into the forest along the river.