"Help me," whispered Gaspé, seizing Wilfred's arm and dragging him after him through the sheds to the back of the house. He took out a key and unlocked a side door. There was a second before him, with the keyhole at the reverse hand. It admitted them into a darkened room, for the windows were closely shuttered; but Gaspé knew his ground, and was not at a moment's loss.
The double doors were locked and bolted in double quick time behind them. Then Gaspé lifted up a heavy iron bar and banged it into its socket. Noise did not matter. The clamour in the waiting-room drowned every other sound.
"They will clear the shop," he said, "but we must stop them getting into the storeroom. Come along."
Wilfred was feeling the way. He stumbled over a chair; his hand felt a table. He guessed he was in the family sitting-room. Gaspé put his mouth to the keyhole of an inner door.
"Chirag!" he shouted to their Indian servant, "barricade."
The noises which succeeded showed that his command was being obeyed in that direction.
Gaspé was already in the storeroom, endeavouring to push a heavy box of nails before the other door leading into the shop. Wilfred was beside him in a moment. He had not much pushing power left in him after his night of wandering.
"Perhaps I can push a pound," he thought, laying his hands by Gaspé's.
"Now, steady! both together we shall do it," they said, and with one hard strain the box was driven along the floor.
"That is something," cried Gaspé, heaving up a bag of ironmongery to put on the top of it. And he looked round for something else sufficiently ponderous to complete his barricade.