Let me out!

I then went down to a small company of the poor people and spent half an hour with them in prayer. About nine, as we were preparing to go to bed, the house was beset again. The captain burst in first. Robert Griffith's daughter was standing in the passage with a pail of water, with which (whether with design or in her fright, I know not) she covered him from head to foot. He cried as well as he could, "Murder! Murder!" and stood very still for some moments. In the meantime Robert Griffith stepped by him and locked the door. Finding himself alone, he began to change his voice and cry, "Let me out! Let me out!” Upon his giving his word and honor that none of the rest should come in, they opened the door, and all went away together.

The Journal of John Wesley