The creature outside threw caution to the winds, Frank sensed rather than heard a body hurtling toward the door. A shrill, mad laughter raked his ears and the weight of a body hit the door.
Frank drew strength from pure panic as he threw his weight against the panel, but perhaps an inch or two from the latch the door wavered from opposing strength. Through the narrow opening he could feel the hoarse breath of exertion in his face. Insane giggles and curses sounded through the black stillness.
Frank had the wild conviction he was losing the battle, and added strength came from somewhere. He heaved and there was a scream and he knew he had at least one finger caught between the door and the jamb. He threw his weight against the door with frenzied effort and heard the squash of the finger. The voice kited up to a shriek of agony, like that of a wounded animal.
Even with his life at stake, and the life of Nora, Frank could not deliberately slice the man's fingers off. Even as he fought the urge, and called himself a fool, he allowed the door to give slightly inward. The hand was jerked to safety.
At that moment another door opened close by and Jim Wilson's voice boomed: "What the hell's going on out here?"
Simultaneous with this, racing footsteps receded down the hall and from the well of the stairway came a whining cry of pain.
"Jumping jees!" Wilson bellowed. "We got company. We ain't alone!"
"He tried to get into my room."
"You shouldn't have opened the door. Nora okay?"
"Yeah. She's all right."