There, outside the glass door of the Sala Clementina, only the right-hand half of which was open, a last Swiss Guard stood watching.
"Signor Squadra," Pierre said again, and the Guard drew back to let him pass.
The Sala Clementina, spacious enough by daylight, seemed immense at that nocturnal hour, in the twilight glimmer of its lamps.

All the opulent decorative-work, sculpture, painting, and gilding became blended, the walls assuming a tawny vagueness amidst which appeared bright patches like the sparkle of precious stones.

There was not an article of furniture, nothing but the endless pavement stretching away into the semi-darkness.

At last, however, near a door at the far end Pierre espied some men dozing on a bench.

They were three Swiss Guards.