The windows of this chamber appeared to be illuminated with a bright light. This struck the King as strange, but at first he thought the light might be produced by the torch of some valet. Still, what could anybody be doing there at such an hour, and in a room which had not been opened for some time? Besides, the light was too bright to proceed from a single torch. It might be the work of an incendiary, but there was no smoke, and the windows were not broken. Charles watched the windows some time in silence. No sound could be heard; everything betokened simply an illumination. Meanwhile Count Brahé extended his hand towards the bellrope to summon a page in order to send him to find out the cause of this singular light, but the King stopped him. "I will go to the hall myself," he said. Whilst he spoke they saw his face grow pale with superstitious fear; but he went out with a firm tread, followed by the chamberlain and physician, each holding a lighted candle. Baumgarten went to rouse the sleeping porter who had charge of the keys with an order from the King to open immediately the doors of the assembly hall. The man was greatly surprised at this unexpected order. He dressed himself quickly, and joined the King with his bunch of keys. At first he opened the door of a gallery which was used as an antechamber or private entrance to the assembly hall. The King entered. Imagine his surprise at finding the walls completely draped in black. "Who gave the order for hanging this room thus?" he demanded angrily. "No one, Sire, to my knowledge," replied the uneasy porter. "The last time I swept out the gallery it was panelled, as it always has been.... I am certain this hanging never came out of Your Majesty's depository." The King, walking at a rapid pace, had already traversed more than two-thirds of the gallery. The Count and porter followed closely; the physician Baumgarten was a little behind, divided between his fears of being left alone and of being exposed to the consequences of what promised to be such a strange adventure. "Go no further, Sire," exclaimed the porter. "Upon my soul, there is sorcery behind this. At such an hour ... and since the death of the Queen your gracious wife ... they say she walks in this gallery.... May God protect us!" "Stop, Sire," entreated the Count in turn. "Do you not hear the noise that comes from the assembly hall? Who knows to what dangers Your Majesty may be exposed?" "Sire," broke in Baumgarten, whose candle had just been blown out by a gust of wind, "at least allow me to go and fetch a score of your halberdiers." "Let us go in," said the King sternly, stopping before the door of the great apartment. "Porter, open the door immediately." He kicked it with his feet, and the noise, echoing from the roof, resounded along the gallery like the report of a cannon. The porter trembled so much that he could not find the keyhole.