“I say， Peter，” whispered Edmund. “Look at those carvingson the walls. Don’t they look old？ And yet we‘re older than that. When we were last here， they hadn’t been made.”
“Yes，” said Peter. “That makes one think.”
The Dwarf went on ahead and then turned to the right， and then to the left， and then down some steps， and then to the left again. Then at last they saw a light ahead.light from under a door. And now for the first time they heard voices， for they had come to the door of the central chamber. The voices inside were angry ones. Someone wastalking so loudly that the approach of the boys and the Dwarf had not been heard.
“Don‘t like the sound of that，” whispered Trumpkin to Peter. “Let’s listen for a moment.” All three stood perfectly still on the outside of the door.
“You know well enough，” said a voice （“That‘s the King，” whispered Trumpkin）， “why the Horn was not blown at sunrise this morning. Have you forgotten that Miraz fell upon us almost before Trumpkin had gone， and we were fighting for our lives for the space of three hours and more？ I blew it when first I had a breathing space.”
