As soon as he saw that she was through he stood with his back to the door facing them. Again the dream-sensation was upon him. He had the impression that when just now he had attacked Mrs. Tenssen his hands had gone through her as though she had been air.
He could hear Leishman quavering: "Let them go. . . . This will be bad for us. . . . I didn't want . . . I don't like . . ."
Mrs. Tenssen said nothing, then she had rushed across at him, had one hand on his shoulder and with the other was jabbing at him with the hatpin, crying: "Give me my daughter! Give me my daughter! Give me my daughter!"
With one hand he held off her arm, then with a sudden wrench, he was free of her, pushing her back with a sharp jerk, was through the door and down the stairs.
Christina was waiting for him; he caught her hand and together they ran through the rain-driven street.
Down Peter Street they ran and down Shaftesbury Avenue, across the Circus and did not stop until they were inside Panton Street door. The storm had emptied the street but, maybe, there are those alive who can tell how once two figures flew through the London air, borne on the very wings of the wind. . . . In such a vision do the miracles of this world and the next have their birth!
Up the stairs, through the door, the key turned, the attic warm and safe about them, and at last Henry, breathless, his coat torn, his back to the door:
"Now nobody shall take you! . . . Nobody in all the world!"