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 but theft and flight…. So reasoned Angus, but in this he was wrong. For Crane had planned, and being an opportunist, had been cunning enough to avail himself of an opportunity. He had come face to face with ruin, and not being of that fiber which dares to escape into nothingness, had chosen rather the coward’s part of flight. He had come to the bank that day for no other purpose but that of withdrawing the funds of the Novelties Company, the savings of his fellow-townsmen, and of disappearing into a world which finds mysterious methods of hiding those who have sufficient funds to pay…. He chose the life of a fugitive, hunted, photographed, hounded, to facing exposure and prison…. The choice was deliberate.

Craig Browning’s yellow car seemed to flatten itself to the macadam; it appeared, not to speed along upon four wheels, but to pour, fluidlike, along the road. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour Angus pressed the accelerator to the floorboards, knowing well that he traveled two miles to Crane’s utmost possible one…. In half an hour he saw, far ahead, the dust of a speeding car. It drew nearer, nearer, became clearly discernible. Angus’s eyes were glued to its tail; his face was grim, and he drove grimly—a set, inexorable figure. Crane did not look back, did not realize pursuit until Craig