Janina, mortally stabbed, practically blew the head off one of these door-keepers.
Cracowicz got the other with a blow from the butt of his empty pistol--a blow that crushed in the right temporal bone.

Then he, too, and three others, fell and died.
Outside, in the passage, the Maghrabis were wringing the necks of the wounded white men.

The dull sound of crushed and broken bones blent with the turmoil.
"_The door--shut the door!_" The Master's voice penetrated even this Hell-tumult.

The Master flung himself against the door, and others with him.
The very frenzy of the attack defeated the Arab's object, for it drove the survivors back into the treasure-crypt.

And in the narrow doorway the white men could for a moment hold back the howling tides of fury.
With cold lead, butts, naked fists, the remaining Legionaries smashed a little clearance-room, corpse-heaped.