Explore "The Traitor's Gate" by Edgar Wallace on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"GUA-A--ARD! SLOPE--HIME!"
Thirty-one rifles moved as one--thirty-one white hands came back to the seams of thirty-one trousers as though impelled by some invisible machinery. "Arms!" the word should have been; "hime" it was and had been since the beginning of military life. Motionless, the straight scarlet line stood, great bearskin headgears in perfect alignment. The march the band was playing came to its crashing, thunderous end as the last four of the old guard disappeared round the angle of the white tower.