There were bad bruises a-plenty; but there was nothing worse.
As the Master and the few others who had descended the steps were working over the fallen man, the Mistress checked the turmoil on the veranda.

At Lad's leap, memory of this speed-mad motorist had rushed back to her.
Now, tersely, for the benefit of those around, she was identifying him with the killer of Lady; whose death had roused so much indignation in the village.

And, as she spoke, the people who had clamored loudest of mad dogs and who had called so frantically for a gun, waxed silent.

The myriad glances cast at the prostrate and blubbering Rhuburger were not loving.

Someone even said, loudly: "GOOD old Laddie!" As the Mistress and the Master were closing the house for the night, a car came down the drive.