Meanwhile heavy feet were tramping overhead. Doors were flung open.
One man ran up-stairs. There were at least three men. Evan did not
think it possible they had come in sufficient force to completely
surround the house. It was safe enough to flash his light in the
depths of the cellar. He led the way to the foot of the stone steps.
The stars showed through the broken door overhead.

Making them wait behind him, he cautiously parted the thick screen of
bushes and looked out. Nothing was stirring on this side of the house.
The grass and weeds were waist high down to the edge of the woods. It
was less than fifty yards to shelter. Evan whispered to his little
party:

"Hands and knees through the grass. Take it slow. Each one keep a
hand on the ankle of the one in front. Corinna, you go first."

It was done as he ordered. Surely a more oddly-assorted party of
fugitives never acted in concert to escape the law: girl, negress,
multi-millionaire, and artist. Like a snake with four articulations,
they wound through the grass. In the most sophisticated man lingers a
wild strain; the stiff-jointed millionaire took to this means of
locomotion as naturally as the negress.

As they left the house behind them they came more within the range of
vision of those who were presumably watching the front and back. At
any rate, while they were still fifty feet from the trees, a hoarse
voice was raised from the front: "There they go!" And an answering
shout came from the rear.

The four fugitives of one accord rose to their feet and dashed for the
trees. Gaining the shadows, Corinna whispered:

"We must separate. You take Deaves."

Evan pressed her own revolver back in her hand, whispering: "Fire it
off if you are in danger."

Seizing Deaves' hand, Evan pulled him away to the right. Corinna and
Aunt Liza melted in the other direction. The old man came through the
underbrush like a reaping machine, and of course the police took after
them. For a moment Evan considered abandoning him. He would come to
no harm, of course. But on the other hand, Evan now ardently desired
to have the whole affair hushed up. He got Deaves across the rough
road in safety, and on the other side, coming to an immense spruce tree
with drooping branches, he dragged him under it, and they sank down on
a fragrant bed of needles.

The pursuing policemen, coming to the road, instinctively turned off
upon it, and Evan knew they were safe