She, at least, would hear me and never doubt my innocence.

She must hear, too, of Archie's danger.
That to reach her, even if I eluded pursuit to the Hospital gate, I must run the gauntlet of Mr.George--who would assuredly ask questions--and possibly of Mr.Scougall, scarcely occurred to me.
To reach her--to sob out my story in her arms and hear her voice soothing me--this only I desired for the moment; and it seemed that if I could only hear her voice speaking, I might wake and feel these horrors dissolve like an evil dream.

Meanwhile I ran.
But at the end of a lane leading into Treville Street, and as I leapt aside to avoid colliding with the hind-wheels of a hackney-coach drawn in there and at a standstill close by the kerb, to my unspeakable fright I felt myself gripped by the jacket-collar.
"Hi! Bring-to and 'vast kicking, young coal-dust! Where're ye bound, hey?
Answer me, and take your black mop out of a gentleman's weskit." "To--to Dock, sir," I stammered.

"Let me go, please: I'm in a hurry." My captor held me out at arm's length and eyed me.

He was a sailor, and rigged out in his best shore-going clothes--tarpaulin hat, blue coat and waistcoat, and a broad leathern belt to hold up his duck trousers, on which my sooty head had left its mark.