"An't please you, Mr Percy, one of his Majesty's pensioners, that hath his lodging this next door." "I thought none dwelt next door. How long hath your master had the house?" "Under your Lordships' leave, about a year and an half; but hath deferred his lying there by reason of some occasions which caused him to be absent." "Well, he has laid in a good stock of fuel," said the Chamberlain, as if carelessly; and their Lordships turned and remounted the stairs. Arrived at a place where they might speak unheard, the noble searchers looked each into the other's face with the same question on the lips of both. "What thinks your Lordship of all this stock of fuel below?" "Nay, what think you, my Lord?" "Truly, I am very suspicious thereof." "My Lord, the more I do observe the letter," said Lord Monteagle, earnestly, "and meditate on the words thereof, the more jealous am I of the matter, and of this place. Look you, this Mr Percy the pensioner and I had great dearness of friendship between us at one time; he is a near relative of my Lord Northumberland, and a Catholic. Were I you, that cellar should be thoroughly overhauled." "Well, let us go to the King." It was between five and six o'clock, and the short November daylight was over, when the searchers brought back their report to his Majesty, recounted their suspicions, and asked what they were to do. "Gi'e me a man wi' his heid on his shoulders," said his Majesty, "and ye ha' that, my Lord Monteagle. Noo, I'll just tell ye, I ay held ane maxim, to wit, Either do naething, or do that quhilk shall make a' sure. So ye'll just gang your ways, and ha'e a glint ahint thae faggots in the bit cellar." "If it please your Highness, is there no fear that so we may give room for murmurings and evil rumours? If we search this cellar and find nothing, may not men say the Government is unduly suspicious?" "And, under your Highness' leave, shall it not place my Lord Northumberland in jeopardy?--he being akin to Mr Percy, and his great friend." "Ay, is there twa heids weel screwit on? I jalouse, my Lord Monteagle, ye're saying ae word for my Lord Northumberland and twa for yoursel'. Be it sae: a man hath but ane life. My Lord Chamberlain, can ye no raise a bit rumour that a wheen o' the hangings are missing that suld ha'e been in the Wardrobe in Wyniard's keeping? Then gang your ways, and turn out the faggots." "And, if it might please your Majesty," suggested the Lord Chamberlain, "were it not best some other made the search--one of the gentlemen of your privy chamber,--so as to rouse less suspicion?" "Ay, gang your ways, and send auld Knevet down, wi' a pair or twa o' younger hands to toss the faggots." "Might it not be well also, Sire, to extend the search to the houses adjoining the Parliament House, and so make examination of the lodging where Mr Percy lieth?" "Do sae, do sae," responded the King. "I affy me in you: only heed this, What you do, do throughly."