At this stage of his reflections he was rudely stopped, for the young knight, as if conscious of some impending danger, withdrew his head into the room and rolled over upon his back, leaving Edmund so little time in which to screen himself from view, that in attempting to secure a cover he toppled right over and fell back upon a thin scattering of straw.

Sir Thomas stopped the yawn with which he was indulging himself, and got upon his feet, surprised in no small degree to find that no one had entered the room.  He went to the ladder to satisfy himself, but meeting with a like measure of ill-success there, he came away in a discontented mood; not perceiving Edmund, who lay, holding his breath, behind a heap of hay.

“I thought it was my sack coming,” he muttered; “but it was only those confounded rats.  What a time they are gone, to be sure,” and as a last resource he sat himself down upon Sir George’s seat and watched the play afresh.

Edmund during all this time was slowly making up his wavering mind.  The memory of Dame Durden was still fresh within him, and it was in fulfilment of his scheme of revenge for that that he had united with Sir Ronald Bury to bring the baron to book for his misdeeds, and was now in London.  Why should he not wreak his vengeance upon Sir Thomas Stanley, and then at once accomplish the work on which his heart was set?  In the intensity of his passion he could find no satisfactory answer to the question.  There were powerful reasons both for and against such a plan.  Sir Thomas was seriously jeopardising his present safety; but would his death at all affect the baron?  Margaret would feel it, mayhap, and so might Sir George to some extent, but he was fully aware that Sir Ronald’s aim would be by no means compassed by such a termination; nor was he at all certain his own desire would be accomplished even then.  The danger of his present position, however, was too apparent to be lightly put aside, and it proved too much for him.  Were the others to return now his ruin would be assured; and realising this, he cautiously raised his head, and finding the young nobleman again deeply interested in the progress of the scene before him, he quickly drew out his knife and crept silently on towards his unsuspicious prey.

CHAPTER XI.

An unfortunate denouement.

                                But

In proving foresight may be vain: 
The best laid schemes o’ mice and men

                      Gang aft a-gley.

Burns.

As Edmund drew nearer to Sir Thomas Stanley his heart began to fail him, and when at last he was sufficiently near the knight to have carried out his design, his courage oozed out at his finger ends and he felt powerless to strike.

Finally he relinquished the attempt altogether, and a new idea flashing upon him, he tossed the knife into the furthest corner of the room, and rising to his feet, he tapped the still unconscious nobleman upon the shoulder, trusting that his careful disguise would preserve him from being recognised by Sir Thomas at least, for circumstances at Haddon had brought them into connection with each other but a few times at most.