"And," said Fawkes, Winter having finished, "having so quickly found one, I would seek the other. Blood is thicker than water, and I warrant me the lass is much improved both in stature and knowledge. 'Tis now close upon the morning, good gentlemen, therefore I pray thee, Sir Winter, direct me whither I shall go, being in sore haste to find her."
Winter drew Catesby aside, whereupon a whispered consultation followed, the drift of which was evidently known to Percy, Wright and Digsby, though Fawkes wondered somewhat at it. His impatience soon showed itself.
"Zounds!" cried he, striking with his clenched hand the hilt of his rapier, "I am much beholden to thee, Sir Winter, and later—but now, I pray thee, make haste, that I find my daughter."
Catesby flushed angrily, for the words of the soldier of fortune struck illy upon his haughty temper, and he would have replied, but Winter pressed his arm.
"Good Guido," said he, soothingly, "thy haste is most commendable. Go then to thy daughter, and that thou mayest not miss the way, follow closely the directions I shall give thee. Upon leaving Sir Percy's door, turn thou to the left, going down the street which leads past the gate of St. Paul's. Proceed five hundred paces, then turn about to thy left, when thou wilt see before thee a narrow street, upon the corner of which is situate a gabled dwelling, bearing upon its peak a golden arrow. Count then two score doors from the corner, and upon the three and fortieth, knock loudly; 'tis there thy daughter dwelleth."
At Winter's words all signs of impatience vanished from the soldier's manner.
"By the keys of Peter!" cried he, "I am much beholden to thy lordship. Having spoken with the lass, where may I find thee?"
"Fear not," replied Winter, "for in the evening, about the hour of nine, I will come for thee. Go thou, then, speedily."
Fawkes made haste to snatch his cloak, and having wrapped it about him, bowed to the company and, preceded by Percy, clattered down the stairs.
"Methinks he will serve us," muttered Winter; "yet, good Catesby, must we deal gently with him, for, being of an exceeding rough nature, 'twill need but an ill-timed word to turn him into gunpowder."