He had not made this haste for his life only: before he had risen to his knees or set foot in the gate, he had formed his plan.

"The Portcullis!" he cried.

"The Portcullis! Where are the chains?
On this side ?" Less than a week before he had stood and watched the guard as they released it and raised it again for practice.
The soldier, familiar with the tower, should have been able to go to the chains at once.

But though he had struggled for his life and was ready to struggle for it again, he had not recovered his nerve, and he shrank from leaving the stairs, in holding which their one chance consisted.

He muttered, however, that the winch was on such and such a side, and, with his head in the stairway, indicated the direction with his hand.