It finally came loose, with a suddenness that threw her off balance, and she reeled against the bed, almost falling.
She saw Slade coming toward her, a bestial rage in his eyes, and she threw herself again at the door, grasping it and throwing it wide open.
She tried to throw herself out of the opening, to the stairs that led straight downward into the barroom.

But the movement was halted at its inception by Slade's arms, which went around her with the rigidity of iron hoops, quickly constricting.

She got a glimpse of the room below--saw the bar and the men near it--all facing her way, watching her.

Then Slade drew her back and closed the door.
He did not bar the door, for she was fighting him, now--fighting him with a strength and fury that bothered him for an instant.

His strength, however, was greater than hers, and at last her arms were crushed against her sides with a pressure that almost shut off her breath.
Slade's face was close to hers, his lips loose; and his eyes were looking into hers with an expression that terrified her.
She screamed--once--twice--with the full power of her lungs.