"Here, sir."

"Be ready for the word." He turned the handle once more, and slipped
into the darkened room.

It was a large square apartment, with two high windows upon the further
side, curtained across with priceless velvet hangings. Through the
chinks the morning sun shot a few little gleams, which widened as they
crossed the room to break in bright blurs of light upon the
primrose-tinted wall. A large arm-chair stood by the side of the
burnt-out fire, shadowed over by the huge marble mantel-piece, the back
of which was carried up twining and curving into a thousand arabesque
and armorial devices until it blended with the richly painted ceiling.
In one corner a narrow couch with a rug thrown across it showed where
the faithful Bontems had spent the night.

In the very centre of the chamber there stood a large four-post bed,
with curtains of Gobelin tapestry looped back from the pillow. A square
of polished rails surrounded it, leaving a space some five feet in width
all round between the enclosure and the bedside. Within this enclosure,
or _ruelle_, stood a small round table, covered over with a white
napkin, upon which lay a silver platter and an enamelled cup, the one
containing a little Frontiniac wine and water, the other bearing three
slices of the breast of a chicken, in case the king should hunger during
the night.

As Bontems passed noiselessly across the room, his feet sinking into the
moss-like carpet, there was the heavy close smell of sleep in the air,
and he could near the long thin breathing of the sleeper. He passed