There was no help for it. He could neither advance nor retreat, so he stood at the top, carefully selecting the darker side, to await the course of events which could bring him no good fortune, but only evil in a greater or lesser degree. The completeness of his disguise, which had so completely deceived Sir Thomas, encouraged him to hope, for the moment, that he might also pass unrecognised even before the eagle eyes of the King of the Peak, and he solaced himself by trusting that if he were discovered the landlord might dismiss him in as summary a manner as he had done the ostler before him. As Sir George passed him by, deep in conversation with Sir Nicholas Bacon, Edmund's hopes were considerably augmented, but the same ill-luck which had followed him heretofore did not desert him now. His hopes were dashed as soon as they had arisen, for the eye of the worthy Boniface was fixed upon him ere that person had fully entered the room. Had he been attired in a manner more befitting his station, Edmund would undoubtedly have received a more befitting reception; but clothed as he was in shabby knee-breeches, loosely tied at the knees, a coat which was out at the elbows, a hat minus a portion of its brim, and with a dilapidated ruffle round his neck, which had been in its prime years ago, he presented a striking similarity in appearance to the ordinary marauding beggar of the period, such as were then so exceedingly common, and for one of whom, indeed, the landlord took him to be. 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."