But instead a voice called from beneath.
"Will you please open to us ?" it called.
He stuck his head out and saw a little group with one man at the head of it, a young man clad in oilskins whose face was dim in the murky evening.

The voice was that of a gentleman.
"I have orders to open to no one," Heritage replied.
"Then I fear we must force an entrance," said the voice.
"You can go to the devil," said Heritage.
That defiance was the screw which his nerves needed.

His temper had risen, he had forgotten all about the Princess, he did not even remember his isolation.

His job was to make a fight for it.

He ran up the staircase which led to the attics of the Tower, for he recollected that there was a window there which looked over the space before the door.