In the forward part of the machine stood Loge, raving in an almost demoniac fury and pointing at the box.

He writhed in the grip of three men who endeavored to restrain him.

One of them was the sinister Pierre.
Hoisting himself, as it were, on a mounting billow of his own profanity, Loge cast himself with a wide swimming motion of his arms from the auto.

But one of the men clung to him; they came to the ground together like tackler and tackled in a football game.

The others cast themselves out of the machine and flung themselves upon their leader; he fought like a lion, but he was finally overpowered and thrown back into the auto, which was immediately started up and which made off towards Fairport at a rattling speed.