A glance full of sad meaning from the countess was all the adieu he received from her; and next moment he found himself in the narrow alley, where a soldier in the livery of the queen's guard held his grey horse by its bridle.
CHAPTER XVII.
A SNARE.
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive.
Scott.
In a preceding chapter we left two right honourable lords—to wit, the earls of Bothwell and Glencairn—in search of Master Patten, the scribe or secretary to Edward Shelly, the captain of the Boulogners. These gentlemen, as supposed followers of the house of Glencairn, resided in a quaint old-fashioned stone house, then known as Cunninghame's Land, which had been galleried and fronted with timber in the time of James IV. It was situated above the Upper Bow Porte, and there they were found readily enough by the two nobles, who had free entrance at all times. On this occasion, however, the earls, on coming in, hurriedly and unannounced, found the Englishmen seated at a table, immersed among letters, dockets of papers, maps, and manuscripts: they were both busy writing. Glencairn, who had a supreme contempt for such work, gave a hasty and impatient glance at Bothwell, whose only literary efforts had been to make his mark or fix his seal to a notary's deed; for, like Bell-the-Cat, of whom we read in "Marmion," or his majesty King Cole of the popular ditty, this untutored lord
"Quite scorn'd the fetters of four-and-twenty letters,
And it saved him a vast deal of trouble."
On their abrupt entrance, Patten and Shelly started in alarm from their work. The former spread his hands over the papers, as if to protect them; but the valiant captain of the Boulogners drew his sword, with the first instinct of a soldier, to protect his compatriot and himself.
"Uds daggers! what new plot art thou hatching, worthy scribe, to put men's weasons in peril?" asked Glencairn; "how many human souls are bartered in these piles of scribbled paper—eh?"
"Up with thy sword, Master Shelly," said Bothwell, laughing, and twisting up his large black moustache. "Did you think we were the provost halberds or the queen's guard come to arrest you?"
"Either had found me ready, my lord. But I knew not what to think," replied Shelly with some displeasure, as he dropped his long straight sword into its scabbard, swept the papers into a drawer, and locked it. "Master Patten and I were deeply engaged——"