A great door was sliding rapidly across the width of the tunnel, and, before he could fire a second time, the tunnel was closed.
Jerry Smith went temporarily mad.

He ran at the door, which had just closed, and struck the whole weight of his body against it.

There was not so much as a quiver.

The face of it was smooth steel, and there was probably a dense thickness of stonework on the other side, to match the cellar walls of the house.
"It was my fool fault," exclaimed Jerry, turning to his friend.

"My fault, Ronicky! Oh, what a fool I am!" "I should have known by the feel of the scars," said Ronicky.