Then she ran to the door, and locked it.

She would fight like a hornet, now, she inwardly vowed, for what she held.
Then she caught her breath, behind the locked door, for the sounds that crept in from the hallway told her that her fear had not been groundless.
She heard Durkin's little choked cry of pain and surprise, for he had been seized, she knew, and pinned back against the door.

It was Pobloff's men, she told herself.

They had him by the throat, she knew by the sound of the guttural oaths which they were trying to choke back.

She could hear the kick and scrape of feet, the movement of his writhing and twisting body against the door, as on a sounding-board.
She surmised that they had his arms held, otherwise he would surely have used his revolver.