Being allowed free intercourse with the soldiers of the garrison and with the other inmates of the fortress, Kirkcaldy and his friends succeeded in buying the services of a messenger, by whose help they were able to hold communication with the other prisoners, from whom they had been separated at Rouen. Availing himself of the means thus afforded, Kirkcaldy wrote to John Knox, to ask his advice with regard to a matter about which it seems difficult to understand that he should have entertained any doubt or felt any scruple. He wished to know whether he and those with him might, with a safe conscience, break their prison. Knox replied that they would incur no moral guilt by embracing any opportunity which God should offer them to regain their liberty, providing they used no unlawful means, and, above all, refrained from shedding blood in the attempt. Sir James Kirkcaldy was also informed of his son’s intention; but he appears to have given the bold scheme but scant encouragement. He feared that, even if it proved successful, those who still remained in captivity would be more harshly treated; and it was out of deference to him that Knox so earnestly deprecated any recourse to violent measures. To venture across the quicksands alone would have been courting death; and as a first step towards the execution of their daring project, the prisoners had to secure the assistance of a guide. In that, they do not appear to have encountered any serious difficulty. One of the young men engaged in an inferior position about the Castle, in all probability the same who had enabled them to communicate with their friends, undertook to show them a safe way to the mainland if they should succeed in eluding the vigilance of their keepers. For many months circumstances prevented the carrying out of a plan which the restrictions imposed by Knox, and accepted by the four captives, rendered particularly hazardous and difficult; and the second winter since their departure from Scotland still found them fretting for liberty on the isolated rock. At length, however, their knowledge of the customs of those amongst whom they were living told them that the time for action was approaching. In those days, even more than at present, and particularly in Normandy, where it is still widely celebrated, the festival of the Three Kings--_le Jour des Rois_--as the Epiphany is called, was kept as a popular holiday, with much merry-making and carousing. The nature of the quaint ceremonial which formed a part of the feast, led to even more than the customary indulgence on the part of the revellers. Every time that the mock monarch of the evening, elected by favour of the bean hidden in the Twelfth-Night cake, put his goblet to his lips, the cry was raised, ‘_le Roi boit! le Roi boit!_’ and all his faithful subjects showed their loyalty, and their appreciation of his liberality, by draining their own cups. Even with no stronger beverage than the cider of