Then, working as he talked: "I've got no time to tell you what I think of you, you pitiful hound"-- he snatched up the plate from the floor and put it in his pocket--"Twenty years, I think you said, didn't you ?"--his hand shot into Malone's pocket-book, and extracted the five-dollar note--"If you can open this with your toes maybe you can get a way"-- he wrenched the trapdoor over and slammed it shut--"good-night, Malone"-- and he leaped for the window.
The door tottered inward from the top, ripping, tearing, smashing hinges, panels, and jamb.

Jimmie Dale got a blurred vision of brass buttons, blue coats, and helmets, and, in the forefront, of a stocky, gray-mustached, gray-haired man in plain clothes.
Jimmie Dale threw up the window, swung out, as with a rush the officers burst through into the room and a revolver bullet hummed viciously past his ear, and dropped to the ground--into encircling arms! "Ah, no, you don't, my bucko!" snapped a hoarse voice in his ear.

"Keep quiet now, or I'll crack your bean--understand!" But the officer, too heavy to be muscular, was no match for Jimmie Dale, who, even as he had dropped from the sill, had caught sight of the lurking form below; and now, with a quick, sudden, lithe movement he wriggled loose, his fist from a short-arm jab smashed upon the point of the other's jaw, sending the man staggering backward--and Jimmie Dale ran.
A crowd was already collecting at the mouth of the alleyway, mostly occupants of the house itself, and into these, scattering them in all directions, eluding dexterously another officer who made a grab for him, Jimmie Dale charged at top speed, burst through, and headed down the street, running like a deer.
Yells went up, a revolver spat venomously behind him, came the shrill CHEEP-CHEEP! of the police whistle, and heavy boots pounding the pavement in pursuit.
Down the block Jimmie Dale raced.

The yells augmented in his rear.
Another shot--and this time he heard the bullet buzz.

And then he swerved--into the next alleyway--that flanked the Sanctuary.
He had perhaps a ten yards' lead, just a little more than the distance from the street to the side door of the Sanctuary that opened on the alleyway.