Something very important and mysterious was going on; that was evident. But what?
They could only wait and find out.
“Ten, eleven!” counted Tullydub, and then heaved a deep sigh. For a famous nobleman had just entered the gate, and the chief counselor could not help wishing he had been number forty-seven.
So the counting went on, and the people became more and more interested and excited.
When the number had reached thirty-one a strange thing happened. A loud “boom!” sounded through the stillness, and then another, and another. Some one was tolling the great bell in the palace bell-tower, and people began saying to one another in awed whispers that the old king must be dead.
The five high counselors, filled with furious anger but absolutely helpless, as they could not leave the gate, lifted up their five chubby fists and shook them violently in the direction of the bell-tower.
Poor Jikki, finding himself left alone in the palace, could no longer resist the temptation to toll the bell; and it continued to peal out its dull, solemn tones while the chief counselor stood by the gate and shouted:
“Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four!”
Only the mystery of this action could have kept the people quiet when they learned from the bell that their old king was dead.
But now they began to guess that the scene at the east gate promised more of interest than anything they might learn at the palace; so they stood very quiet, and Jikki’s disobedience of orders did no great harm to the plans of the five high counselors.