The man seemed to
see Rudolf, for he broke into a quick trot. Mr. Rassendyll's
position was critical; this fact alone accounts for the dangerous
step into which he allowed himself to be forced. Here he was, a
man unable to give account of himself, of remarkable appearance,
and carrying a revolver, of which one barrel was discharged. And
there was Bauer, a wounded man, shot by somebody with a revolver,
a quarter of an hour before. Even to be questioned was dangerous;
to be detained meant ruin to the great business that engaged his
energies. For all he knew, the patrol had actually sighted him as
he ran. His fears were not vain; for the constable raised his
voice, crying, "Hi, sir--you there--stop a minute!"
Resistance was the one thing worse than to yield. Wit, and not
force, must find escape this time. Rudolf stopped, looking round
again with a surprised air. Then he drew himself up with an
assumption of dignity, and waited for the constable. If that last
card must be played, he would win the hand with it.
"Well, what do you want?" he asked coldly, when the man was a few
yards from him; and, as he spoke, he withdrew the scarf almost
entirely from his features, keeping it only over his chin.
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