Having located Darnley’s house, as forming the west side of a small college quadrangle among gardens and trees, we now examine the interior of his far from palatial lodgings. The two-storied house (the arched vaults on which it probably stood not counting as a story?) was just large enough for the invalid, his servants, and his royal nurse. There was a ‘hall,’ probably long and not wide, there was a lower chamber, used by Mary, which could be entered either from the garden, or from the passage, opened into by the front door, from the quadrangle. Mary’s room had two keys, and one must have locked the door from the passage; the other, the door into the garden. If the former was kept locked, so that no one could enter the room by the usual way, the powder could be introduced, without exciting much attention, by the door opening on the garden. In the chamber above Mary’s, where Darnley lay, there were also a cabinet and a garderobe. There was a cellar, probably the kind of vaulted crypt on which houses of the period were built, like Queen Mary’s House in St. Andrews. From the ‘cellar’ the door, which we have mentioned, led through the town wall into the Thieves’ Row. Whoever has seen Queen Mary’s House at Jedburgh (much larger than Kirk o’ Field), or the Queen’s room at St. Andrews, knows that royal persons, in Scotland, were then content with very small apartments. A servant named Taylor used to share Darnley’s sleeping-room, as was usual; three others, including Nelson, slept in a ‘little gallery,’ which apparently ran at right angles from Darnley’s chamber to the town wall. He had neither his own guard, nor a guard of Lennox men, as at Stirling. If the rooms were small, the tapestries and velvet were magnificent, and in odd contrast with Mary’s alleged economic plan of taking a door from the hinges and using it as a bath-cover. This last anecdote, by Nelson, appears to be contradicted by Hay of Tala. ‘Paris locked the door that passes up the turnpike to the King’s chamber.’[128] The keys appear to have wandered into a bewildering variety of hands: a superfluous jugglery, if Bothwell, as was said, had duplicate keys. Mary often visited Darnley, and the Lennox documents give us copious, if untrustworthy, information as to his manner of life. They do not tell us, as Buchanan does, that Mary and the vast unwieldy Lady Reres used to play music and sing in the garden of Kirk o’ Field, in the balmy nights of a Scotch February! But they do contain a copy of a letter, referred to by Buchanan, which Darnley wrote to Lennox three days before his death.