Could you throw us down a bit of rope?
We've no handcuffs here, and one of us has to go to the lock-up and the other to Washington street, where there's a woman yelling blue murder; and hurry up, please, sir." The gentleman threw down a rope, and in two minutes Jenkins' wrists were tied together, and he was walked through the gate, saying bad words as fast as he could to the policeman who was leading him.

"Good dogs," said the other policeman to Jim and me.

Then he ran up the street and we followed him.
As we hurried along Washington street, and came near our house, we saw lights gleaming through the darkness, and heard people running to and fro.

The nurse's shrieking had alarmed the neighborhood.

The Morris boys were all out in the street only half clad and shivering with cold, and the Drurys' coachman, with no hat on, and his hair sticking up all over his head, was running about with a lantern.
The neighbors' houses were all lighted up, and a good many people were hanging out of their windows and opening their doors, and calling to each other to know what all this noise meant.
When the policeman appeared with Jim and me at his heels, quite a crowd gathered around him to hear his part of the story.