“The passage is all black darkness, Sire,” whispered the chamberlain; and the King pointed with his sword to the nearest sconce.
“Bring a light,” he said laconically.
The next minute they were opposite the secret door, which the King unfastened, and was about to raise the arras when the chamberlain pressed forward.
“I will go first, your Majesty,” he said.
“After your King, sir. Yours the task to light me on the way.”
A word of opposition was upon his follower’s lips, but the King stooped hastily, raised the arras well on high, and signed to the chamberlain to hold it up and cast the light into the narrow way he was about to traverse.
Then with one heavy thrust he threw open the door, and without a moment’s hesitation passed in with his sword advanced, to be followed quickly by the chamberlain, who raised the light above his head, to throw the King’s shadow right before him, so that his mock semblance, looking black, solid, and grotesquely dwarfed, moved on in front till it struck against the angle of the wall where the passage turned sharply to the left.
Here with sword advanced the chamberlain approached as closely as he could, fully expecting attack from a hiding foe; but the King passed boldly on, with his shadow before him, till the next angle was reached, their footsteps sounding hollow, dull, and strange in the confined space.
The King walked onward like one well accustomed to traverse the place, and in another few minutes the great candle his follower bore was casting the dwarf shadow upon the heavy door that blocked the end.
“A false clue, Hurst,” said the King gruffly. “The secret of this place is still our own.—No, by my faith!” he almost roared. “The light, man—lower—and look here!”