The absence of such signal parchments from the archivist’s roster contrasts oddly with what he put forward to enhance the value of the grant of 1621—which flowed from Allen’s misconduct at Carrickfergus. This was the only Patent purporting to give Lough Neagh and the Bann direct to the “great Deputy.” It was the last in his lifetime. The affidavit deposed that it reserved to the Crown a rent of £920 a year (or in present moneys £9,000). So large a rent made for belief in its genuineness; and the Courts were struck by the figure. Yet, plain on the face of the enrolment, the true rent was shown to be £30 15s. 6d. (thirty pounds fifteen shillings and six pence). Amazement is palsied by such artistry. A wry presentation was made of facts and Patents which it was essential to justice to have rightly understood. The high position of the archivist led to his affidavits being accepted trustingly, while the fishermen were ill-equipped for a struggle needing years of research. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE FINAL FORGERY. Apart from the mis-statements of the archivist, the absence of information which has since become available told heavily for the disputed Patents. Although the King’s Letter to Thomas Irelande only authorised a gift to the value of £100 a year, the Courts were not advised that it had been drawn upon by a previous grant. Before 1606, if not then sterile, its fecundity had been much diminished. Yet the Patent of 1606 gave away a million’s worth of property besides the fisheries. The improbability of James I.’s consenting to this devastation of Crown estate would naturally attract suspicion as to the genuineness of the grant, had attention been called to its sweeping nature. Even if the tapster at the “Half-Moon” had presented the Crown with £1,678 6s. 8d., the likelihood of royal sanction for a grossly excessive requital was slight. “New lamps for old” may be given away in Aladdin-land; but in the England of James I. it was inconceivable that his Majesty would consent to so reward such a payment. In any case it was incredible that he would allow his subordinates to part with a million on a warrant for £100, with leagues of river and square miles of lake flung in as a “tilla” or “hors d’œuvre.” The Courts were unaware of the extent of the Patent; and though, in one sense, the rest of its contents did not touch the question of the fisheries, its magnitude bore strongly on the question of a genuine emanation of the Royal will. The same challenge to the realities arose under the hasty conveyance of the plunder by Hamilton to Chichester, for which no honest explanation could exist. Again, its stowage away and muffling up in the bogus Patent to Bassett spoke shrilly of illegality, but as to all this no warning hint came from any expert to guide his Majesty’s Judges.