marking:

"It's lunch time and over! With your permission, I'll take a bite and
a drop. Will you join me?"

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, fulminating and flying at the