"_Ninerias_!" [Nonsense!--literally, _childishness_] cried Constance hastily, using a word of her mother's tongue, which she had frequently heard from the lips of Dona Juana. And springing to the wardrobe in the ante-chamber, she was back in a second, with a thick furred winter gown. "Lo' you, my Lord! Lap you in this, and--" And Constance glanced round the room for a safe hiding-place. "And!"--said Le Despenser, smiling sadly, but doing as he was requested. "Go up the chimney!" said Constance hurriedly. "They will never look there, and there is little warmth in yon ashes." She caught up the shovel, and flung a quantity of cinders on the almost extinct fire. The idea was not a bad one. The chimney was as wide as a small closet; there were several rests for the sweep; and at one side was a little chamber hollowed out, specially intended for some such emergency as the present. With the help of the two ladies and Maude, Le Despenser climbed up into his hiding-place. Ten minutes later, Sir William Hankeford was bowing low in the banquet-hall before the royal lady of the Castle, who gravely and very courteously assured him of her deep regret that her lord was not at home to receive him. "An' it like you, Madam," returned the acute old judge, "I am bidden of the King's Grace to ensure me thereof." "Oh, certes," said Constance accommodatingly. "Maude! call hither Master Giles, and bid him to lead my learned and worshipful Lord into every chamber of the Castle." The judge, a little disarmed by her perfect coolness, instituted the search on which he was bound. He turned up beds, opened closets, shook gowns, pinched cushions, and looked behind tapestry. So determined was he to secure his intended prisoner, that he went through the whole process in person. But he was forced to confess at last that, so far as he could discover, Cardiff Castle was devoid of its master. The baffled judge and his subordinates took their departure, after putting a series of questions to various persons, which were answered without the slightest regard to truth, the replicants being ignorant of any penalty attached to lying beyond confession and penance; and considering, indeed, that in an instance like the present it was rather a virtue than a sin. When they were fairly out of sight, Constance went leisurely back to her bower, and called up the chimney. "Now, my good Lord, you may descend in safety."