“Who has been tampering with this, Cyril?” he asked, sharply. “Some one has given it a wrench, and the trigger won’t work.” “There’s something fishy about all these mysterious occurrences,” said Cyril. “Does it strike you that our guns are at the other end of the house, and that we have no other weapons here?” “If you ask me, my lords,” said Wright, impressively, “I think there’s foul play.” “Stuff!” said Caerleon. “Don’t croak until you’re told, Wright. If we can’t find any weapons, we must get hold of something that will do instead--not that I think there’s any danger, but it’s as well to be on the safe side.” “Of course,” said Cyril, “the guards _may_ have all struck work at once, and be enjoying sweet repose in their quarters, but the coincidence about the revolvers is suspicious.” “I have it!” cried Caerleon. “There are our dress-swords, which will be better than nothing. Put on a coat or something, Cyril, while I get them out, and don’t stand there shivering.” He went back to his room, and returned with his own sword, while Wright unearthed Cyril’s; and armed with these elaborate if not particularly dependable instruments of warfare, they prepared to start on their voyage of discovery. “Haven’t you got a weapon of any sort, Wright?” asked Caerleon of the groom. “Buckle, your Majesty,” returned Wright, unfastening the strap round his waist. “’E ain’t bad at a pinch.” Thus unsatisfactorily accoutred, they set out along the corridor. The electric light was burning brightly, but, as Wright had said, there was not a human being to be seen. It felt almost uncanny to be marching noiselessly over the thick carpets, in the blaze of light, without hearing a sound or uttering a word, and Cyril and Wright caught themselves glancing apprehensively at the open doors of dark rooms and at the heavy folds of _portières_. As for Caerleon, he was far too much incensed against the guards on account of what he conceived to be their dereliction of duty to have any thought of supernatural terrors, or even of the more palpable danger of a possible enemy lurking to intercept him. His intention was to go straight to the guard-room and give the guards a thorough fright, which would teach them not to confide too trustfully in their sovereign’s drowsiness on another occasion. The head of the great staircase was reached without encountering any further suspicious circumstances; but Wright, looking out into the courtyard from a window, pointed out to Cyril in a whisper that there were no lights visible there. They began to descend the stairs, and as they did so, there was a sound of footsteps in the hall beneath, and several men appeared from the direction of the entrance. Both parties caught sight of each other at the same moment, and halted suddenly, Caerleon, Cyril, and Wright half-way between the head of the stair and the landing in the middle, the others on the lowest step. They were General Sertchaieff, Louis O’Malachy, and half-a-dozen stalwart