They were five minutes ahead, and if we could not enter Peronne in advance of them, it were no worse had they been a day before us.
Yolanda cast one frightened glance toward the duke's party, and struck her horse a blow with her whip that sent it bounding forward at a furious gallop.

We reached the river and were crossing as the duke entered Cambrai Gate--the north entrance to the city.

We would enter by the gate on the south known as the Somme Gate; Cambrai Gate was nearer the castle.
The duke, I supposed, would go directly to the castle; where Yolanda would go I could not guess.

From outside the Somme Gate we saw the duke enter Cambrai, but after we had passed under the arch we could not see him for a time because of intervening houses.

The huge, grim pile of stone known as Peronne Castle loomed ominously on the opposite side of the small town.