Snare was down full length before the expired fire upon the hearth; and the others were disposed on either side.
Not a sound was heard, except the prolonged chorus of the sleepers, and the chirping of the cricket; when from beneath a large table at the farther end of the kitchen, and where he had lain concealed, the head of Pouncet Grasp was protruded. Stealthily, and with the greatest caution, he listened to the heavy breathing of the sleepers. He then as carefully emerged from his hiding-place, and stole on tip-toe towards the party, identifying each individual as he did so, and putting down his name in a small tablet he drew from the breast of his doublet.
"Oh, oh," he whispered to himself, as he closed the tablets, after writing down the name of William Shakespeare; "here is a precious nest of ye."
"Ah! ah!" he continued, as he stepped to the door, and carefully opening it, looked back ere he departed. "Here's a delicious job for a man to stumble upon! A good night's work you have made on't, Master William Shakespeare, have ye? Yes, and a precious piece of work have ye all made on't. A Star-Chamber matter will Sir Thomas make of this, as sure as my name is Grasp." So saying, he quietly opened the back door, and stole out to join the followers whom he had left in the orchard.
"Shall I call the other men, and make the capture, Master Grasp?" inquired one of his myrmidons in a whisper. "Not to-night, good Giles," said the lawyer. "By no means to-night. There is a precious fellowship within there; and they may capture us! Besides, I have found out a plot—a monstrous plot—a damnable plot—and yet a lovely plot—a most sweet piece of villany!"
"A monstrous plot!" said the constable; "What is't, another conspiracy to murder the Queen?"
"Worse," said Grasp. "Now, listen and perpend. Thou knowest Sir Thomas Lucy hath of late lost more than one deer?"
"I do," said the constable.
"Well, an he hath lost them, I have found them."
"Where?" eagerly inquired the constable.