So sudden had been the coming of that tender maid, born of the people, but now more noble than any lord of England, that none save, perchance, Salisbury, Monteagle and the King, comprehended its meaning. The girl's dying cry that all should flee the House of Parliament, was a mystery to the lords; but to the mind of the Prime Minister, and to Monteagle and James, came as by a flash of lightning, the veiled meaning in the letter, which, strong in his feeling of security, the King had hitherto looked upon as an idle jest, gotten up to disturb his dreams. Raising his eyes from the spot where Elinor lay, her blood staining the polished floor, he turned them upon Salisbury, with a look of interrogation. The Minister collected by an effort his scattered senses. Into his mind came as though by Divine inspiration some inkling of the nature of the threatened danger. Turning quickly, he summoned to his side Master Edmond Doubleday, an officer of the royal household.
"Go," said he hoarsely, "into the cellar, and whosoever thou findest there, be it man or woman, seize quickly. Perchance the King's life dependeth upon thy expedition."
Of quick wit, the officer comprehended that his superior had surmised some plot, the solution of which might be found below. Hastening from the hall he gathered on the way a dozen gentlemen, and together the company hurried from the House and sought the door which opened to the chamber under it. Something guided their steps—great, crimson splashes upon the pavement, blood drops which left a well-marked trail from the space before the throne of the King—to the narrow entrance of the cellar wherein lay the danger which they must avert. Little did Guido Fawkes know—as little had the dead girl comprehended—that her heart's blood would mark the way which would lead him to the scaffold because it would be the means of hastening on his enemies, directing them with no uncertain significance to his hiding place.
In the semi-darkness of the cellar, amid his coals and faggots, with the six and thirty barrels of gunpowder ready for the spark, the daring soldier of fortune stood with trembling limbs, and a nameless terror at his heart. Unflinching in the face of danger, the first in all deeds of hardihood, famed for his valor in the Lowcountry, the overturning of the lantern so near the powder train, and the low cry of agony which followed the driving home of his dagger, had unnerved him. For one brief instant he thought he recognized the cry—that from the gasping lips so near his own had fallen the word "father!" but in the excitement of the moment he dismissed the dreadful thought. Some idle, curious knave had chanced to see the cellar door, and entered. Was it his fault that he had resorted to the knife to prevent the discovery of his presence?
Occupied with the overturned lantern he had noted little what befell the other. Stabbed to death, the intruder probably lay in some dark corner where the soldier's frantic push had sent him. The lantern burned dimly, and time was speeding, so 'twould be an ill thing to waste it upon a dead man. Steadying his nerves by an effort, Fawkes took out the watch which Winter had given him, and bending toward the flickering light studied the dial. The hour was at hand; in five minutes the great clock in the tower of St. Paul would mark the stroke of eleven, and he would fire the fuse.
Searching in his doublet he drew forth a tinder box and touchwood. Five minutes more and he would strike the spark; in five more the red, spitting serpent would reach the hidden powder; by then he would be safe, and, mingling with the crowd, would hear the roar of thunder heralding the passing of James Stuart and his Parliament into eternity.
As he waited, the flint held ready to strike the steel, there flashed through his mind the thought of his daughter, but she was safe at home, and——The sound of hasty footsteps and the passing of dark forms before the dim light struggling through the half closed entrance to the cellar, broke his revery. Was it another come to meet his knife point?
As he drew back, shading the lantern with his cloak, the door was burst violently open, and a dozen men, the first holding aloft a torch, pushed into the cellar. Fawkes thrust the flint and touchwood into the bosom of his doublet, and, ever cool when danger threatened, bent carelessly over the pile of coals and faggots. Coming thus, without knowledge, any might have judged him an honest coal monger busy at his trade.
Those who entered so hastily rushed upon him; Edmond Doubleday raised a dagger, intent upon driving it into his body, but seeing Fawkes unarmed he lowered the steel and seized him by the shoulders. In an instant the soldier shook off the other's grasp.
"Who art thou?" cried he fiercely, "what is thy business, sir?"