The cloak was then removed from the body of Alexander Ruthven, and without stopping to look at his handsome face, now calm in the tranquillity of death, the courtiers searched his pockets. Little was found, indeed, except a purse containing a small sum of money, and a letter, which was handed immediately to the king, for it was in his own handwriting.
"That must be put out o' the way," said James, looking at it. "Is there a fire in the kitchen?"
"Oh, yes, there must be," replied Ramsay; and after tearing the letter into very small pieces, the king gave it to his page, saying, "Put them in the fire, Jock, instanter. But bide a wee--there may be mair."
"There is nothing more, sire," said the Earl of Mar, and then added, "His sword has never been drawn--it is rusted in the sheath."
"That has nothing to do wi' it," cried the monarch, angrily. "Search the other man--see what ye can find on him."
"Here is something worth finding," exclaimed Sir Thomas Erskine, who had unclasped Gowrie's belt, and now held up the scheme of the young earl's nativity, as drawn out by Manucci, displaying the various signs and figures which it contained to the by-standers.
"It's magic!" cried the king, in great delight. "I tell't ye so. He was a dealer with sorcerers and devils, and would have taken our life by his damnable arts. I kenned it weel. I tell't ye, Jock Ramsay."
"And me too, sire," said Herries. "Your majesty's wisdom is never at fault."
"See, the body does not bleed!" cried the king; "this is a magical spell, upon my life. Turn him over, he will soon bleed now this is taken away."
And so, indeed, it proved; for as soon as the body was turned over, so as to bring the wound of which he had died in a different position, the dark blood poured forth in a torrent.