By such help James Hamilton won a lodgment in Ulster. He at once hastened to Dublin, and presented two King’s Letters to the Deputy. One of them, dated the 16th April, 1605, entitled him to the entire of Sir Con’s property, while another of the 6th December, 1604, gave him land (unspecified) to the value of £100 a year. These warrants startled Chichester, who had expected to make his own of the whole of O’Neill’s possessions. In his eyes they revealed a woeful situation, for they conferred on an outsider “of his Majesty’s gift the countries and territories of Upper Clandeboye and the Great Ardes.” This manner of looting O’Neill fell out with his plans—a stranger had struck sickle in the corn he had sown. Hamilton’s second grant of £100 a year was framed on the elastic “Wakeman” model, and surpassed it in the romance of its origin. In his impoverished Elizabethan days the spy used when he came to London put up at the “Half-Moon” Tavern in Bow Lane. It was a house of call for Scotchmen; and the landlord, Thomas Irelande, hailed from “the North Countrie.” At that date the Scotch were by Statute the “ancient enemies” of the English; but Hamilton, while acting as a scout for the Scots, was also in the pay of England. When James I. reached the throne he cannot have suspected this, and his Letter of the 6th December, 1604, with other gifts, attests his gratitude. Suitors for King’s Letters who wished to baffle inquiry or avert jealousy often put forward some “John Doe” or “Richard Roe” as a feigned beneficiary (as the Earl of Devonshire did) to mask grants intended for themselves. Hamilton preferred that the name of his innkeeper should appear in the royal Letter instead of his own. He had, on the 6th November, 1603, and 18th May, 1604, been given a valuable monopoly for the export of linen yarn from Ireland, and may have thought it would be easier or more speedy to obtain further grants if he remained in disguise rather than appear as the original beneficiary. Whatever his motive, he showed himself as skilful as higher personages in employing the machinery for juggling with Patents. The name of the Innkeeper, Thomas Irelande, chosen for insertion as the nominal Patentee, corresponded with that of another “Thomas Ireland,” an escheator of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, who might be looked on as the grantee by those who did not burrow too deeply below the surface.