As soon as this worthy had ascended, Edmund coolly made for the ladder, but he was motioned back by a sweep of the arm, as the landlord loosely fastened down the door.

“Who might you be, pray?” he asked, turning to the terror-stricken captive; “and what are you doing here, eh?”

At this sally Sir Thomas Stanley, who had just been exchanging compliments with the Lord Keeper, turned round.

“Who might he be,” he laughed, repeating the words he had just overheard; “well, by my troth, Sir George, he does not remember his own servant, even the one he sent about my sack.  You have been priming him with his own ale and this is the result.

“Not a drop,” interrupted the baron.

“What do you say?” gasped out the astonished innkeeper.  “This rascally knave a servant of mine!  Pooh, does he look like it, I ask you?  You impudent jackanapes,” he pursued, as he clutched the unfortunate Edmund by the collar.  “What are you here for, eh?  What are you here for?  Speak.”

So far was Edmund from complying with this command that he remained absolutely silent.  He dare not open his mouth for fear that Sir George would recognise his voice.

“Prowling about for as much as he can lay hold of, I’ll warrant me,” continued his captor, addressing Sir Thomas Stanley, who had advanced towards them.  “How long has he been here, my lord?”

“Nay, I know not,” said Sir Thomas.  “I saw him but just before you came up.”

“Then you may satisfy yourself that he had watched us out,” replied the other sharply, “and was surprised enough to find anyone left up here.”

“Like enough,” assented the baron.

“He was pretty smart with his tricks, then,” said Sir Thomas.  “How was he to know I wanted any sack, I should like to know?”

The question was unanswerable, and no one attempted to reply.

“How did you know that, eh?” asked the proprietor, emphasising the question by a series of hearty shakings.

Still there was no answer; Edmund would not speak.

“Did you see him enter?” asked Sir Nicholas.

“I did not know he was in the room until he tapped me on the shoulder.  I was watching the play.”

“These rogues are wonderfully sharp,” muttered Sir George.

“Then probably he was in the room all the time,” suggested the Lord
Keeper.

“What did the rascal say to you, my lord?” went on the tavern keeper.

“He asked me whether I would have my sack spiced or no.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Sir George; “that was cool enough, at any rate.  I think we ought to let the knave free this time for his wit.”

“And let him prey on somebody else?” added Sir Nicholas.

“Bad policy, Sir George, bad policy.  He might try his hand on you next time.”

“I wonder how much property of mine he has taken already?” continued the host.  “I will have him thoroughly searched.  I know the rascal well enough, he’s been here before now many a time.  There’s a whole lot of them prowling around the neighbourhood; a regular gang.  I’ll make an example of this one, I will.  You might as well give me what you have taken,” he added, turning to his captive, “and save me the labour of taking it from you.”