Presently they reached a large hall, with the floor covered with pure gold, the sides covered with silver, and the ceiling inlaid with countless precious stones. The light was so brilliant and dazzling that Harry was half blinded, and had to shade his eyes for some moments before he could see anything.
At the further end of the hall was the King of the Gnomes on his throne. On each side of him sat the Grand Prime Minister and the Grand Recorder, and beside them were ranged a double row of armed soldiers.
It seemed to Harry that the Gnomes had picked out the oldest and ugliest one of their number for King, and then the next two ugliest ones for Prime Minister and Recorder. The King had an immense gray beard, so long and bushy that the ends of it were spread out on the floor in front of him like a rug. In his right hand he held, as a sceptre, a small golden pickax, to show that all the wealth of his kingdom came from the mines.
As Harry and Wamby drew near the throne, the King growled forth, “What do you want?”
Wamby held forth the hat-pin, and replied, “We are come to demand of you to deliver to us every Pin Elf now in Your Majesty’s dominions.”
“Hum! hah!” growled the King, frowning terribly. He looked first at the Grand Prime Minister, and then at the Grand Recorder, as much as to say, “What do you think of that?”
Those two worthies of course knew better than to make any reply. They simply bowed very low, as if to say, “We think whatever Your Majesty is pleased to think.”
Then the King stared at his golden pickax with his right eye, which, by the way, was much larger than the other eye, and had a most horrible glare.
“Hum! hah!” he muttered again, and turned that awful eye of his upon Harry.
The poor boy was shaking in his shoes from fright, but he returned the King’s gaze with a bold countenance.