The Refugees, Arthur Conan Doyle [most recommended books .txt] 📗

tin, the state barber. Others, with clothes thrownover their arms, bustled down the passage which led to the ante-chamber.The knot of guardsmen in their gorgeous blue and silver coatsstraightened themselves up and brought their halberds to attention,while the young officer, who had been looking wistfully out of thewindow at some courtiers who were laughing and chatting on the terraces,turned sharply upon his heel, and strode over to the white and gold doorof the royal bedroom.

He had hardly taken his stand there before the handle was very gentlyturned from within, the door revolved noiselessly upon its hinges, and aman slid silently through the aperture, closing it again behind him.

"Hush!" said he, with his finger to his thin, precise lips, while hiswhole clean-shaven face and high-arched brows were an entreaty and awarning. "The king still sleeps."

The words were whispered from one to another among the group who hadassembled outside the door. The speaker, who was Monsieur Bontems, h