The assailed man cast a swift, desperate look about
him; the crowd closed in a little. Obviously he must keep "eyes
front."
"To your left! To your left!" The voice came to him clear and
sweet above the swelling growl of the rabble. "The doorway! Get
into the doorway, Mr. Beetle Man."
A few paces away, how far Perkins could only guess, was the
entrance to the house. He surmised that, like many of the better-
class houses, it had a small set-in door, at right angles to the
main entrance, that would serve as a shallow shelter. Without
raising his eyes, he nodded comprehension, and began to edge along
the wall, swinging his stout weapon. As he went, he wondered what
was keeping the others. At that moment the others were frantically
wrestling with the all-too-adequate bars with which Sherwen had
reinforced the wide door.
Perkins, feeling with a cautious heel, found himself opposite the
entry indicated by the voice. Turning, he darted into the narrow
embrasure. Here he was comparatively safe from the missiles that
were now coming from all directions. On the other hand, he now
lacked room to swing his formidable club.
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