She laid her hand upon his arm. Courtlaw stood up. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door. You've betrayed yourself, Thames.
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