"Judge Allen'll tell you what the fine is," said the selectman gruffly. "And he may want bail."
"Bail?" demanded Winthrop. "Do you mean to tell me he will detain us here?"
"He will, if he wants to," answered the chief of police combatively.
For an instant Winthrop sat gazing gloomily ahead, overcome apparently by the enormity of his offence. He was calculating whether, if he rammed the two-inch plank, it would hit the car or Miss Forbes. He decided swiftly it would hit his new two-hundred-dollar lamps. As swiftly he decided the new lamps must go. But he had read of guardians of the public safety so regardless of private safety as to try to puncture runaway tires with pistol bullets. He had no intention of subjecting Miss Forbes to a fusillade.
So he whirled upon the chief of police:
"Take your hand off that gun!" he growled. "How dare you threaten me?"
Amazed, the chief of police dropped from the step and advanced indignantly.
"Me?" he demanded. "I ain't got a gun. What you mean by——"
With sudden intelligence, the chauffeur precipitated himself upon the scene.
"It's the other one," he shouted. He shook an accusing finger at the selectman. "He pointed it at the lady."