Now follow me quick.

Oh that he may only keep his legs!" They gained the bottom of that street before he had turned out of it; and so through another, and another, till they ran him to earth in one of the courts out of St.Martin's Lane.
Into a doorway he went, and up a stair.

Tom stood listening at the bottom, till he heard the fellow knock at a door far above, and call out in a drunken tone.

Then he beckoned to Campbell, and both, careless of what might follow, ran upstairs, and pushing him aside, entered the room without ceremony.
Their chances of being on the right scent were small enough, considering that, though every one was out of town, there were a million and a half of people in London at that moment; and, unfortunately, at least fifty thousand who would have considered Mr.John Barker a desirable visitor; but somehow, in the excitement of the chase, both had forgotten the chances against them, and the probability that they would have to retire downstairs again, apologising humbly to some wrathful Joseph Buggins, whose convivialities they might have interrupted.

But no; Tom's cunning had, as usual, played him true; and as they entered the door, they beheld none other than the lost Elsley Vavasour, alias John Briggs.
Major Campbell advanced bowing, hat in hand, with a courteous apology on his lips.
It was a low lean-to garret; there was a deal table and an old chair in it, but no bed.