And all the brave "bum-baillies" who had so gallantly bullied and brow-beaten Sybil and her sole defender, dropped panic-stricken, paralyzed by terror.
"Get out of this, you vermin!" ordered a stern voice at one of the windows.
"Ye—ye—yes, gentlemen," faltered Jones.
"Ta—take, all we have, but spa—spa—spare our lives!" pleaded Smith.
"Well, well, get out of this, you miserable cowards! Empty your pockets, and you shall be safe! It would be crueler than infanticide to slay such miserably helpless wretches!" laughed the same voice, which poor Sybil, as in a dream, recognized as belonging to Captain "Inconnu."
The trembling bailiffs descended from the coach and gave up their pocket-books and watches, and then submitted to be tied to trees.
The coachman and the guard yielded to the same necessity.
The horses were taken from the coach and appropriated to the use of the victors.
And lastly, Sybil, who was rendered by despair indifferent to her fate, was lifted from her seat by the strong arms of Moloch, who held her a moment in suspense, while he turned to his chief and inquired:
"Where now, Captain?"