A muffled sound of voices came from the other side of the door panels, but the hall itself was silent.

Harry stood remarkably still, and the only thing which moved at all was the yellow flame of the candle as it flickered apparently in some faint draught.
The light wavered across the portraits, glowing here upon a red coat, glittering there upon a corselet of steel.

For there was not one man's portrait upon the walls which did not glisten with the colours of a uniform, and there were the portraits of many men.

Father and son, the Fevershams had been soldiers from the very birth of the family.

Father and son, in lace collars and bucket boots, in Ramillies wigs and steel breastplates, in velvet coats, with powder on their hair, in shakos and swallow-tails, in high stocks and frogged coats, they looked down upon this last Feversham, summoning him to the like service.