With a harsh, grinding sound that rose with incredible swiftness to a scream, piercing the night, the ponderous grating slid down, crashed home and barred all entrance--closed the Porte Neuve.

It did more, though Claude did not know it.

It cut off the engineer from the outer gate, of which the keys were at the Town Hall, and against which in another minute, another sixty seconds, he had set his petard.

That set and exploded, Geneva had lain open to its enemies.

As it was, so small was the margin, so fatally accurate the closing, that when the day rose, it disclosed a portent.
When the victors came to examine the spot they found beneath the portcullis the mangled form of one of the engineers, and beside him lay his petard..