This pilferage must be reckoned as one of Chichester’s most dexterous fetches. In skill it outdid even the budding of the life-estate in Lough Neagh on the thirteen-and-fourpenny “command” at Carrickfergus. Still, its success was influentially contributed to by others. The trick required the collusion of the Attorney-General, the Solicitor-General, the Chancellor-Archbishop of Dublin, the Chief Justice, the Chief Baron, the Master of the Rolls, the principal Secretary of State, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Every high official was needed as an accomplice; and not one of them flinched. These were the men who embodied the civilising influences which replaced the less facile justice of the “lewd” Brehon Code. Latent merit also lurked in the Patent, as an instrument of chicane. It vested great estates in an outsider, who could assign them to the Deputy with a title free from apparent taint. It overlaid with veneer the frauds connected with John Wakeman, John King, Thomas Irelande, Auditor Ware, and James Hamilton. It wafted an air of kingly approval over a barefaced theft. It stripped Sir Randal quite noiselessly, and handed his fishery to a stranger alleged to be “dear” to his Majesty. In form it was a royal grant, which, though obtained by the prostitution of the Commission, was redolent of legality. When these shifts, re-shifts, and makeshifts to secure a semblance of lawful origin for Chichester’s booty were accomplished, the grant was garnished with the Great Seal of Ireland. Within six months of that solemn rite Bassett transferred everything back to his loving uncle. The conveyance from him, of course, was kept a secret, like Hamilton’s assignment, and was never enrolled. A knighthood was Bassett’s reward, and the Deputy prescribed in his will that he should be buried in the same tomb with himself at Carrickfergus. There each worthy now lies awaiting the judgment of the Resurrection. Contrasted with Chichester’s refusal to remedy, by the same machinery, the pretended blot in the Patent of Hugh O’Neill, the parchment issued to Bassett attracts lasting interest. O’Neill’s grant was the outcome of a National treaty which ended a nine years’ war. Bassett’s was a swindle carried out against the King and his subjects. Criminality permeated it even to minor details. The fine due to the Crown on its being issued was left unpaid, in spite of a recital that £20 had been lodged in the Exchequer, and in this way the King was both pettily and grossly cheated. While this Patent was a-making, Sir Randal renewed his appeal to the King. He was, however, unexpectedly thwarted at Court, and for the first time tasted defeat. Umbraged and disconsolate, he was sent home from London, but immediately recommenced his efforts, and not altogether without success. The discouraged chief, who had never even heard of Bassett, wrote to Cecil on the 19th August, 1608:—