People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels —all eager to assist in the capture. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. It seemed at this moment, however, that there was not going to be any “fun”, and Captain Roding said so. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. He lost control of the machine. Grudgingly he admired her.
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