He did not feel the burn of the scratch on his arm as he jumped to his feet.

Once more he ran swiftly through the hall.

At the end door he looked back.

Apparently the shot had not alarmed the occupants of Josephine's room, to whom the report of a rifle--even at night--held no special significance.
Another moment and Philip was outside.

It had stopped snowing, and the clouds were drifting away from under the moon.