“Hah! What I expected,” cried the King angrily. “This way, Hurst. There is mystery and trickery here.”
As he was speaking the clock from one of the turrets was chiming loudly, the sounds of the bells seeming to quiver in the still air and mingle with the faint strains from the room where the dancing was still going on.
The chamberlain rushed forward, looked sharply round, and made for the casement; but it was closed and fastened inside.
“The boy on guard, Sire, and no one here!” cried the chamberlain. “I do not understand.”
“Nor I,” cried the King; “but we will, and that right soon.” Then making for the door, which had fallen back as the chamberlain entered, he dragged it open, crying angrily, “Boy, your master is not sleeping here. Where is he? What have you to say? Ha!” he roared, like the angry lion he had described himself to be. “Quick, Hurst! Our guards! The boy has gone!”
Chapter Thirty One.
Leoni’s weapon.
But as Hurst made a step forward to summon the guard the King caught him by the wrist.