She turned her head away, and, not disconcerted by her curt refusal, he drew a wicker box from beneath a seat and opened it. His reference to a “bite and a drop” was obviously figurative, especially the “drop,” which grew to the dimensions of a pint, which he swallowed quickly. Perhaps the flavor of the wine made him less attentive to his prisoner, for as he lifted the receptacle to his lips, she thrust her arms through the window and a play book dropped from her hand, a possible clue for any one who might follow the coach. For some time she had been awaiting this opportunity and when it came, the carriage was entering a village.
Scroggs finished his cup. “You see, we’re provided for,” he began. Here the bottle fell from his hand.
“The patroon village!” he exclaimed in consternation. “I’d forgotten we were so close! And they’re all gathered in the square, too!”
He cast a quick glance at her. “You’re all ready to call for help,” he sneered, “but I’m not ready to part company yet.”
Hastily drawing up one of the wooden shutters, he placed himself near the other window, observing fiercely; “I don’t propose you shall undo what’s being done for you. Let me hear from you”––jerking his finger toward the square––“and I’ll not answer for what I’ll do.” But in spite of his admonition he read such determination in her eyes, he felt himself baffled.
“You intend to make trouble!” he cried. And putting his head suddenly through the window, he called to the driver: “Whip the horses through the market place!”
As the affrighted animals sprang forward he blocked the window, placing one hand on her shoulder. He felt her escape from his grasp, but not daring to leave his post, he leaned out of the window when they were opposite the square, and shook his fist at the anti-renters, exclaiming:
“I’ll arrest every mother’s son of you! I’ll evict you––jail you for stealing rent!”
Drowned by the answering uproar, “The patroon’s dog!” “Bullets for deputies!” the emissary of the land baron continued to threaten the throng with his fist, until well out of ear-shot, and, thanks to the level road, beyond reach of their resentment. Not that they strove to follow him far, for they thought the jackal had taken leave of his senses. Laughter mingled with their jeers at the absurd figure he presented, 151 fulminating and flying at the same time. But there was no defiance left in him when they were beyond the village, and he fell back into his seat, his face now ash-colored.