They had heard a little noise, but not much, for he had told the avengers to repress outcry as much as possible; and they had seen to it that the more anyone cried out the more he had to cry out upon, while the patient ones they scarcely hurt at all.
Having promised His Majesty and Her Royal Highness a good breakfast, Curdie now went to finish the business.

The courtiers must be dealt with.

A few who were the worst, and the leaders of the rest, must be made examples of; the others should be driven to the street.
He found the chiefs of the conspiracy holding a final consultation in the smaller room off the hall.

These were the lord chamberlain, the attorney-general, the master of the horse, and the king's private secretary: the lord chancellor and the rest, as foolish as faithless, were but the tools of these.
The housemaid had shown him a little closet, opening from a passage behind, where he could overhear all that passed in that room; and now Curdie heard enough to understand that they had determined, in the dead of that night, rather in the deepest dark before the morning, to bring a certain company of soldiers into the palace, make away with the king, secure the princess, announce the sudden death of His Majesty, read as his the will they had drawn up, and proceed to govern the country at their ease, and with results: they would at once levy severer taxes, and pick a quarrel with the most powerful of their neighbours.
Everything settled, they agreed to retire, and have a few hours' quiet sleep first--all but the secretary, who was to sit up and call them at the proper moment.

Curdie allowed them half an hour to get to bed, and then set about completing his purgation of the palace.
First he called Lina, and opened the door of the room where the secretary sat.