But the first to reach the gates had taken in hand to shut them, and so to prevent the townsfolk reaching the Corraterie.

One of the great doors, half-closed, blocked his way, and instinctively--ignorant how far behind him the pike-points were--he sprang aside into the guard-room.
His one chance now--for he was cut off, and knew it--lay in reaching the staircase and mounting to the roof.

A bound carried him to the door, he grasped the handle.

But a fugitive who had only a second before saved himself that way, took him for a pursuer, dragged the door close and held it--held it in spite of his efforts and his imprecations.
Five seconds, ten, perhaps, Grio--for he it was--wasted in struggling vainly with the door.

The man on the other side clung to it with a despair equal to his own.