VOICES. Who?
VOICE. Barlow.—See 's motor?—comin' up—sithee?
WILLIE. If you've any sense left—— (Suddenly and violently disappears.)
VOICES. Sorry!—he's comin'—'s comin'—sorry, ah! Who's in?—That's Turton drivin'—yi, he's behind wi' a woman—ah, he's comin'—he'll none go back—hold on. Sorry!—wheer's 'e comin'?—up from Loddo—ay—— (The cries die down—the motor car slowly comes into sight, OLIVER driving, GERALD and ANABEL behind. The men stand in a mass in the way.)
OLIVER. Mind yourself, there. (Laughter.)
GERALD. Go ahead, Oliver.
VOICE. What's yer 'urry?
(Crowd sways and surges on the car. OLIVER is suddenly dragged out.
GERALD stands up—he, too, is seized from behind—he wrestles—is
torn out of his greatcoat—then falls—disappears. Loud cries—
"Hi!—hoi!—hoiee!"—all the while. The car shakes and presses
uneasily.)
VOICE. Stop the blazin' motor, somebody.
VOICE. Here y' are!—hold a minute. (A man jumps in and stops the engine—he drops in the driver's seat.)