The
great doors swung violently open, and the entire throng were upon
their feet in an instant as a trooper of the Royal Horse shouted:
"The king! The king! Make way for Leopold of Lutha!"
XII
THE GRATITUDE OF A KING
At the cry silence fell upon the throng. Every head was turned
toward the great doors through which the head of a procession was
just visible. It was a grim looking procession--the head of it, at
least.
There were four khaki-clad trumpeters from the Royal Horse Guards,
the gay and resplendent uniforms which they should have donned today
conspicuous for their absence. From their brazen bugles sounded
another loud fanfare, and then they separated, two upon each side of
the aisle, and between them marched three men.
One was tall, with gray eyes and had a reddish-brown beard. He was
fully clothed in the coronation robes of Leopold. Upon his either
hand walked the others--Lieutenant Butzow and a gray-eyed,
smooth-faced, square-jawed stranger.
Behind them marched the balance of the Royal Horse Guards that were
not already on duty within the cathedral. As the eyes of the
multitude fell upon the man in the coronation robes there were cries
of: "The king! Impostor!" and "Von der Tann's puppet!"
"Denounce him!" whispered one of Peter's henchmen in his master's
ear.
The Regent moved closer to the aisle, that he might meet the
impostor at the foot of the chancel steps.
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