prison of her maltreated youth, to make her linger there, but only hateful
ones to speed her going.

She turned and fled.

Stumbling on the stairs, she heard Thérèse still screaming imprecations and
commands at Dupont, then the clumping of the man's feet as, yielding at
length, he started in pursuit.

Through the green baize door she burst into the café like a young tornado.
Every head turned her way with gaping mouths and protruding eyes of
astonishment as she stopped at the caisse and brazenly, in the face of them
all, plundered the till.

This was a matter of necessity. Sofia had not one shilling of her own. But
those two had robbed her, what she took was not so much as a thousandth
part of the money of which they had despoiled her. Moreover, she dared not
go out penniless to face London.

Snatching a handful of loose coin, she made for the door. But the delay had
been fatal. Dupont was now at her heels, and displaying extraordinary
agility in a man of his years of dissipation and sedentary habits. And
Thérèse was not far behind.

Seeing coins trickling through the fingers of the fugitive and falling to
ring and spin upon the floor, the Frenchwoman raised an anguished shriek of
"_Thief! Stop thief!_"--and such part of the audience as had remained in
its seats rose up as one man.

In the same instant Dupont's fingers clamped down on Sofia's shoulder. She