For reply Doubleday turned to his companions. "Surround the fellow, gentlemen," said he sharply, "and search the cellar."
Fawkes was quickly hemmed in by a wall of men, each with drawn sword in hand. On the instant it flashed upon him that the plot was known, and that further dissimulation would be profitless; therefore he held his peace while two or three of his captors searched the cellar. One muttered an exclamation; he had come upon the fuse, and following it, perceived the barrels beneath the pile of faggots. Fawkes smiled grimly.
"If thou wilt look yet further," said he, "haply thou wilt find a dead man."
But nothing was discovered save Fawkes, his faggots, and the gunpowder.
The captive started. He had not then killed him who grappled with him in the darkness; sorely wounded, the other had escaped to set the bloodhounds upon his hiding place. He had thought his hand more sure.
After thoroughly searching the cellar those who had taken Fawkes led him to the passage without. He noted upon the stones the drops of blood, and smiled,—his knife had not been useless after all. As the little company with the soldier of fortune in their midst hurried along the passage there ran toward them Sir Thomas Knyvet and half a score of the royal guards. Perceiving the prisoner, the knight looked at him critically.
"What!" cried he, turning to Doubleday, "hast not bound the ruffian? 'Tis the King's pleasure that any whom thou hast taken be brought before the throne."
No cords were forthcoming, for, in their haste, small matters had been neglected, but one of the gentlemen, taking from his pocket a pair of garters proffered them to Doubleday.
"Take these," said he; "I warrant they will hold the knave."
Fawkes submitted without a protest, watching with grim indifference the passing of the garters about his legs and wrists. Once he smiled; but 'twas a fleeting shadow. Within the House his captors searched him, coming upon the tinder box, touchwood, and Winter's watch—things which were to bear heavy evidence against the prisoner.