The old man was desperate. It was clear he meant to assault Orlando. "You will only take her away over my dead body," he ground out in his passion. "The Lord gave, and only the Lord shall take away." He gathered himself together for the attack.
Orlando waved a hand at him as one would at a troublesome child. At that instant, his mother stepped up behind him in the reception-room.
"Orlando," she said in her mincing, piping little voice, "Orlando, dear, the train is coming. Let me out. I'm not afraid of that bad man. I want to catch my train."
Orlando stepped aside, and his mother passed through, to the consternation of Mazarine, who fell back. The old man now realized that Burlingame had tricked him. Laughter went up from the crowd. They had had a great show at no cost.
"'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again,' Mr. Mazarine!" called someone from the crowd.
"It's the next train she's going by, old Moses-not-much," shouted a friend of Jonas Billings.
"She's had enough of you, Joel!" sneered another mocker.
"Wouldn't you like to know where she is, yellow-lugs?" queried a fat washerwoman.
For an instant Mazarine stood demused, and then, thrusting the Bible into his pocket, he drew himself up in an effort of pride and defiance.
"Judases! Jezebels!" he burst out at them all. Then he lunged through the doorway of the reception-room; but at the door opening on the street his courage gave way, and hunched up like one in pain, he ran towards the hitching-post where he had left his horses and wagon. They were not there. With a groan which was also a malediction, he went up the street like a wounded elephant, and made his way to the police-station through a town which had no pity for him.