Chichester’s “surrender” disclaimed the river and acknowledged the receipt of compensation. Still, embedded in the Crown rental, by way of a scrivener’s note of the trifling rent of 12s. 6d., lurked an official declaration that the Bann and Lough Neagh belonged to him. The humblest clerk in State employ knew that no rent for the Bann was due by anybody. Yet a ledger in Government custody was burdened with this falsehood in the year in which Balfour “exhibited articles unto his Majesty against Sir James Hamilton.” No reason can be assigned for the entry save one—an attempt to build up a defence to meet an expected attack by the “discoverer.” The “cooked” ledger consorts with the Lord Treasurer’s past, and with what remains to be told of his future. The sequel unfolds the same unending game of grab. Each development reveals a fresh crime, and evokes renewed wonder at the miscreant’s resourcefulness. As fertile in the closet as he was ruthless in the camp, Chichester may be regarded as the embodiment of those vices which, amongst the people he oppressed, made a byword of the rule he represented and the creed he sought to spread. CHAPTER XVI. THE ESCHEATOR FOR ULSTER. Once Buckingham’s protection had been purchased by the Lord High Treasurer his confidence grew apace. Alive to the danger he had escaped, Chichester strove to prevent further risks by providing legal cover for his acquisitions. His attempt to shelter them behind an Act of Parliament in 1615 had failed, but they would still, he hoped, be safe if he could obtain a Patent for everything he held, lawful or lawless, in his own name. The grants which Sir James Balfour assailed rested on unenrolled assignments from Hamilton and Bassett. Their origin could easily be traced by legal or official prying; and Balfour’s foray, though thwarted, filled him with concern. Since he had been appointed Deputy in 1605, Chichester had not dared to take out any Patent in his own name unless with royal authority, however freely he practised in the names of others. He felt, nevertheless, that the stalking-horse system was out-worn; and resolved to apply for an omnibus grant, directed to himself, which should include the whole of his possessions—and as much of other people’s as could be arranged for. In 1619, assured of Buckingham’s help, he besought a King’s Letter sanctioning a fresh Patent in his own name. In 1620 his Majesty’s consent was signified; but it was limited to “a confirmation of all his former grants by a re-grant.” The King, as a further precaution, ordered a Commission “to ascertain the other persons in possession of the territory, and to establish their rights.” His Majesty evidently suspected his former Deputy’s pranks; but the royal attempt to prevent their repetition was in vain. Chichester overleaped every barrier; and, now armed with the King’s Letter, accomplished a feat more daring than any he had previously ventured on.