We should have the keys of the door that led to the all-important rooms.

Perhaps they would rush out.

If they stood by their orders, then the King's life hung on the swiftness with which we could force the outer door; and I thanked God that not Rupert Hentzau watched, but Detchard.

For though Detchard was a cool man, relentless, and no coward, he had neither the dash nor the recklessness of Rupert.

Moreover, he, if any one of them, really loved Black Michael, and it might be that he would leave Bersonin to guard the King, and rush across the bridge to take part in the affray on the other side.
So I planned--desperately.