Wogan seized the wrist which held the knife, grappled with the innkeeper, and caught him about the body.

The door of the room, now behind him, was flung violently open.
Wogan, who was wrought to a frenzy, lifted up the man he wrestled with, and swinging round hurled him headlong through the doorway.

The three men were already on the threshold.

The new missile bounded against them, tumbled them one against the other, and knocked them sprawling and struggling on the floor.
Wogan burst into a laugh of exultation; he saw his most dangerous enemy striving to disentangle himself and his sword.
"Aha, my friend," he cried, "you handle a sword very prettily, but I am the better man at cock-shies." And shutting the door to be ran down the passage into the road.
He had seen a house that afternoon with a high garden wall about it a quarter of a mile away.

Wogan ran towards it.