He couldn't get in.

Then he abused me through the door, and said he would have killed me and the child, if he could have got in--and some day he would come again.' She shuddered.
Fenwick had turned pale.

With his painter's imagination he saw the thing--the bestial man outside, the winter night, the slender form within pressing against the door and the bolt-- 'Look here,' he said, abruptly.

'We can't have this.

Somebody must sleep here.