"A second duel hath followed?" interrupted the Minister.

"Not so," replied the other, "but being suspicious of the fellows, my son did set a spy upon them, feeling sure that no honest errand took them into France."

"And what did he discover?" asked Salisbury.

"That Winter and his companion sought many times audiences with certain high churchmen known to be enemies of England. Once, he chanced to meet them upon the street, when Winter flushed a scarlet and hastily pa.s.sed. After this he learned that two Englishmen, one a soldier who had served the King of Spain, gained the ear of certain prelates and n.o.blemen; that their conferences had been conducted with much secrecy, and having finished, the men left Paris in the night, taking poste for Calais."

"And what then?" asked Salisbury, "did thy son learn anything concerning those secret conferences?"

"No way was open to him," answered Monteagle, "but he thought it best to lay the matter before me; the more so that Winter and the other have returned to London."

The Prime Minister pondered for a moment. "Faith! my lord!" said he, "thy zeal for the welfare of the State is most commendable, and the King shall know of it, but thy spirit is overwrought with idle fear.

What if certain Catholics in England have sought audience with those of their faith in Paris? Have we then fear of France? My word upon it, good Monteagle, that calm thought will quell thy doubts. Of this Thomas Winter I know something; a reminder of the luckless Ess.e.x, a gentleman whose zeal doth warp his reason, and who, should he presume too far, will feel the axe, I warrant. Thou sayest he is again in England; perchance he builds a castle which the sight of a line of soldiers will scatter to the winds. Again I thank thee for thy counsel, my lord, nor will I neglect such matters as pertain to the safety of the King. If it come to thee, that these dissatisfied Catholics grow too bold in speech, for I fear not other signs of treason, lay it before me, that I may stop their tongues, ere evil thoughts be planted in the minds of them who cry 'amen' to any wind of speech delivered in the market place."

Monteagle arose, for he perceived 'twas useless to speak further of ill-defined plots and perchance groundless fears of treason against the King.

"I but considered it my duty as an English gentleman to look to the welfare of----" he began.

"Thou hast my confidence," interrupted Salisbury, "and though I seem to treat lightly thy suspicions they will be most carefully heeded should occasion arise. There be certain chambers in the Tower, where those too zealous in their faith may pa.s.s the time in prayer, thanking G.o.d the King is merciful, and stays the axe."

Monteagle bowed and left the room. "It may be," he muttered, "that my mind doth dwell too much upon this matter, but I know Sir Thomas Winter well, and there be certain of the Jesuits yet in England."

CHAPTER XVII.

SOWING THE WIND.

Late of an evening near to Michaelmas, three men applied for admission at the door of a house close to the edge of the Thames, and which, by reason of its surroundings, a.s.sured security from observation to those who might choose to abide therein. Knocking upon the panel with the hilt of a heavy rapier which he had drawn from its scabbard, the shorter of the trio listened impatiently for the sounds which would precede the drawing of the bolts within. His companions, who were in the shadow of a neighboring wall, glanced about apprehensively.

"'Tis an ill-favored place, Sir Thomas," whispered one, grasping tighter the hilt of his sword as though the touch of the steel might calm in a measure his disquietude. "Scarce is it to my liking that friend Guido hath chosen so----"

His companion laughed uneasily. "He hath a keen wit," replied he, "and much precaution is necessary that none suspect at the eleventh hour.

As thou seest, good Percy, 'tis a most peaceful region, with few abroad and no signs of the authorities."

"Peaceful, indeed," replied Percy, casting his eyes down the poorly lighted and narrow street through which he had come; "so is a charnel-house, yet one would scarce----"

A second rap upon the door, delivered with increased force, interrupted the whispered conversation.

"Within!" growled Fawkes, bending so that his lips were on a level with the keyhole. "Art sleeping, Master Keyes, or----"

The shuffling of feet answered, and a voice nearly inarticulate from drowsiness demanded in no gentle tones who sought admittance to an honest dwelling at so unseasonable an hour.

Upon Fawkes replying, the bolt was withdrawn, the door opened a few inches and the face of Master Keyes appeared in the aperture. The soldier of fortune motioned to his companions who quickly joined him.

"Good Robert, here, is a most cunning rogue," said he half laughingly, "having feigned sleep----"

The warden of the door forced a sneering smile. "Faith!" said he, making way that the others might enter, "'twas such feigning as may ever come to me when I would forget my troubles, and there be in my purse no silver to purchase that which is opposed to conscience. What wouldst thou, Guido Fawkes? that I sit upright in a corner from eventide till morn that thou be not kept waiting before the door? Ill was the day when, listening to thy words, I undertook this errand; thou art fain to wish that I may be blown to the devil by thy six and thirty barrels of----"

Fawkes hastily laid his open palm across the mouth of the irate man.

"What now?" growled he gruffly, "that thou must cry aloud the contents of thy cellar? Hast not been paid?"

"Aye," grumbled the man, drawing back, "for sitting over h.e.l.l! May those selfsame Spanish hirelings to whom thy powder goeth, be blown to their master with scant courtesy!"

Winter whispered in Percy's ear: "A pretty trick, good Percy, yet what more natural than, wishing to turn a penny by furnishing powder to the Dons, brave Guido should act with much secrecy, so that it be not seized by the authorities?"

Already they were in the house, and the door was securely fastened.

Fawkes laid aside some of his cautiousness.

"Friend Robert is a faithful man," said he, turning to his companions and speaking with much significance; "therefore have I entered into an agreement with him, that I, being under contract to the Spanish amba.s.sador to convey certain barrels of gunpowder into Flanders, he should guard them till the time be ripe for loading into such vessels as will carry them to the ship which I have hired."

"Then," replied Winter, taking from his wallet a gold piece and tendering it to Keyes, "he will accept this token which, I warrant, will be increased by others of its kind if his diligence pleaseth thee."

On seeing the gold the man's ill temper vanished. "Good gentlemen,"

cried he, seizing eagerly the coin, "I spoke but hastily."

"That we know," said Winter, "and, perchance we, had we been so rudely awakened, would have done as thou didst. Hath any disturbed thee during thy guardianship?"

"None, save a few drunken braggarts who found their way hither, and would have battered in the door. Did any come whose wits were sharper than their caution, I would have----"

"What?" asked Fawkes pointedly, as the speaker hesitated.

"Faith!" replied Keyes, "being a poor man, and a bag of gold pieces forthcoming upon the safe loading of this devil's face powder onto the Spanish vessel, 'twould be but just, that did any seek to cheat me of it--well, the river tells no tales; what think ye, gentlemen?"

Percy shuddered; Winter pressed his hand. "Nay, good Percy," he whispered, "'tis scarce like to happen, yet even so, we would be but instruments in the hand of G.o.d."

During this conversation Fawkes, who seemed to be familiar with the house, had led his companions into a small apartment whose window overlooked the river which, washing against the stone foundation of the dwelling, offered a safe retreat did any, bent upon trouble making, force the street door.

Winter and Percy glanced about them. The place was bare save for a rude cot, a shaky table upon which flickered an iron-bound lantern, and a small chest that, did occasion require, could be placed against the narrow door. At a sign from Fawkes, Keyes drew aside the bed, disclosing in the floor the outlines of a trap door, which covered an opening to the cellar beneath. Stooping, he raised the heavy cover, revealing the top rounds of a rude ladder leading into the blackness below.

"'Tis there!" said Fawkes shortly, "wouldst see it, gentlemen?"

Percy drew back, when Keyes, misunderstanding his hesitancy, caught the lantern from the table.

"I will go down," said he, "and thou mayst safely follow; the stuff be well housed, tight as a drum, and, as thou seest, the lantern scattereth no fire."

"But will not the dampness of the place destroy its usefulness?" asked Winter.

"There is little fear," replied Fawkes, "although it lieth below the surface of the river; the cellar is hewn from the rock, and dry as a tinder-box. Lead the way, good Robert, take heed with thy light."

With much cautiousness the two men followed Fawkes and his guide down the ladder to the floor ten feet below. Reaching it, Keyes held up the lantern so that its feeble rays penetrated the darkness. Piled against the walls of the subterranean chamber, Winter and Percy discerned irregular dark objects rising to the height of their heads.

"'Tis the wind which will free England of the pestilence," said Fawkes grimly; then catching the quick glance of Winter, which reminded him of the presence of Master Keyes, added: "Which sown in Flanders will bring forth a whirlwind against those who serve not G.o.d after the manner of the righteous."

"A goodly amount of the grains," said Percy, placing his foot again upon a round of the ladder; "and how much saidst thou, good Master Keyes?"