She would wait until night, when the king and queen slumbered, and then she would carry out her plan. A brave plan it was, for Margaret Twynlace was no coward maid.
Quiet and patient she waited in the little ante-room, close to the queen's bedchamber, waited until she felt sure the royal pair were fast asleep. Then tripping lightly on tiptoe, she stole into the bedroom, where, as she had guessed, both king and queen were slumbering sound.
She crossed the room, quiet as any mouse, and reached the toilet table. There lay the king's gold comb, and close to it the little pearl knife, the king's wedding gift to his queen.
Back tripped Margaret, still on tiptoe, to the ante-room, and stood, her breath coming quick.
Had she roused the king or queen? Was that the bed creaking?
No, there was not a sound. The royal pair slept sound as before.
Then downstairs in the dark fled Margaret, down to the room where Sir John Carmichael lay slumbering, without a thought of his prisoner, the young Laird of Logie.
Loud did the maiden knock at his door, loud and long, until at last Sir John was roused.
'Sir John,' cried the maid, 'haste thee and wake thy prisoner, the young Laird of Logie, for the king would speak to him this very moment. Open the door, for here be the tokens he sends to thee,' and Margaret held out to Carmichael the gold comb and the pearl knife.
Now, when Sir John had opened the door, he saw the tokens that the maid held out to him. He knew them well and hastened to do the king's will, rubbing his sleepy eyes the while, and muttering under his breath, 'The king holds audience at strange hours; yet must his orders be obeyed.'