"There is no need to arrest me," he cried; "I shall not run from my accuser.

Hands off, I say.

I'm a clergyman of the Church of England, and you shall not lay hands on me." But one of the policemen did lay hands on him.

Then the Reverend Robert Penfold shook him furiously off, and, with one active bound, sprang into the middle of the road.
The officers went at him incautiously, and the head detective, as he rushed forward, received a heavy blow on the neck and jaw that sounded along the street, and sent him rolling in the mud; this was followed by a quick succession of staggering facers, administered right and left on the eyes and noses of the subordinates.

These, however, though bruised and bleeding, succeeded at last in grappling their man, and all came to the ground together, and there struggled furiously; every window in the street was open by this time, and at one the white hair and reverend face of Michael Penfold looked out on this desperate and unseemly struggle with hands that beat the air in helpless agony and inarticulate cries of terror.
The detective got up and sat upon Robert Penfold's chest; and at last the three forced the handcuffs upon him and took him in a cab to the station-house.
Next day, before the magistrate, Wardlaw senior proved the note was a forgery, and Mr.Adams's partner swore to the prisoner as the person who had presented and indorsed the note.