This door opened on a lavatory, and there were also pegs on which the clerks hung their overcoats.

Then there was a swing-door leading direct to the street, and sideways into a small room indispensable to every office.
Monckton entered this lobby, and inserted the numbered notes into young Clifford's coat, and the false keys into his bag.

Then he whipped back hastily into the office, with his craven face full of fiendish triumph.
He started for the detective.

But it was bitter cold, and he returned to the lobby for his own overcoat.

As he opened the lobby door the swing-door moved, or he thought so; he darted to it and opened it, but saw nobody, Hope having whipped behind the open door of the little room.
Monckton then put on his overcoat, and went for the detective.
He met Clifford at the door, and wore an insolent grin of defiance, for which, if they had not passed each other rapidly, he would very likely have been knocked down.