‘What was the origin of the disturbance?’ here interposed Secretary Maitland, seeing that the discussion produced no obvious results. ‘Who began the brawl, man, and first bared steel?’ ‘I could not say,’ replied Dick, looking profoundly ignorant. ‘I’m thinkin’ the stramash was a’ in gude fellowship, till his honour here, the Lord James, an’ the city guard struck in an’ spoilt all.’ ‘Why, you yourself were at half-sword with a score of them when I came up,’ said Lord James, laughing, in spite of himself, at the borderer’s coolness. ‘Oo! that was just a ploy!’ answered Dick, with a grin of delight at the recollection. ‘I’ve seen waur licks than yon gi’en an’ ta’en in Bewcastle Markit, just for gude-will ye ken, an’ a tass or twa o’ brandy.’ ‘Let him go,’ said the duke, ‘till we send for him again. It is not against this faithful knave, your Majesty and my lords, that I appeal for justice, but against the Earl of Bothwell.’ Again Morton shot a lurid glance at the Queen, whose white fingers were travelling fast to and fro through her embroidery. ‘The earl had entered the house peacefully enough when I left,’ began Maxwell, but he was sternly and peremptorily commanded to hold his peace, whilst a whispered consultation was carried on by the chief nobility present, in which Lord James alone took no part. The Queen, with an angry spot on each cheek, continued to work very fast. ‘It is but a part of the plot against Her Majesty’s person,’ said the duke, after a while, ‘a plot which my son himself has discovered, and which on his recovery he will prove on the Earl of Bothwell’s body with his blade. Meantime, there lies my glove; if the Hepburn has a friend, let him take it up!’ Maxwell interposed, eagerly. ‘To any one of my own degree,’ he began--but an imploring glance from the Queen at her brother had roused that statesman from his apathy, and he interfered. ‘Take back your glove, my Lord Duke!’ said he. ‘This is no affair of private brawl, but a matter in which the safety of the crown is involved. My lords, I move for a committee of inquiry on the spot.’ The duke bit his glove through, ere he replaced it on his hand, and then, with moody brow and angry eye, listened in silence to the conference. ‘I move that James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, be committed to ward till such time as he can purge himself from the charges brought against him by the Earl of Arran,’ said Lord Ruthven, after another brief consultation, with a smile of triumph on his pale, gaunt face. With the exception of Seton and Argyle, who seemed to think the warden was receiving scant justice, and a weak remonstrance from Lord James, which yielded gracefully to the urgency of the case, the council agreed upon this precautionary measure, and it was carried accordingly. Secretary Maitland made out the warrant for the earl’s committal; it wanted but the Queen’s signature to become valid. Mary rose from her chair and drew up her majestic figure.