He who was attired in the gray velvet started. "Not so plainly; not so openly, my good Catesby!" he interrupted, "or as my name be Jack Wright, I——"
The language of his companion aroused the dormant energies and spirit of Catesby.
"Faith!" cried he, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table, "methinks the adventure with my Lord of Essex hath left thy stomach but poorly fitted for so tough a morsel as the undoing of the 'Wisest Fool in Christendom.' Even Sir Digsby, who but now turned trembling toward the doorway, hath more spirit for the undertaking. Hath not Percy touched the keynote of our ill condition? What matters it that we writhe under the despotism of James Stuart? Wherefore are the penal laws renewed? Why hath England driven from her shores those who would serve us in our churches? Where is our Mass, our altars and the images of Holy Mother Church? Would we call on France, Spain and the Holy Father to sweep from the land this band of heretics who fear not God, nor respect the faith of five centuries of English kings? I tell thee, Sir John Wright, friend and fellow churchman though thou art, that 'tis to us—to all the Catholics in England—that the world looks for action. Will France act while we are idle? Thinkest thou Spain hath so soon forgotten the Armada, that she will consent to aid while we remain under cover? 'Tis for us to open a way whereby may enter those who stand without, seeking our deliverance. Words beyond count, like the drops of the ocean, have been uttered since James came to the throne, yet are we free? 'Tis not words, I tell thee, but action, swift, sharp and merciless, that will put down our enemies. Fearest thou the block? Did Essex, did Moore, a hundred others whose faith was their life, fear the headsman? Good Percy hath brought us to our senses and surely thou must see the truth of it."
Having thus delivered himself Catesby sank into his seat, his face white from the intensity of the fire which burned within him. His companions remained silent, so great was their astonishment at the openly expressed earnestness of Catesby. Percy was the first to regain speech.
"It ill becomes us," said he, "that a quarrel should arise in a company gathered for the discussion of so weighty a matter. Yet the words of Sir Robert Catesby are well balanced, and the time draws nigh when this same James Stuart shall know that there yet remain good Catholics in England. Sir Thomas Winter——"
"Ah! Sir Thomas Winter!" broke in Digsby, "the hour is long past and he is yet absent."
"There be some good reason," said Wright quickly. "Sir Thomas is too good a Catholic, too earnest in the undertaking which will yet free us from the heretic, to absent himself willingly. And," turning to Catesby with hand extended, "I thank thee that thou hast thus spoken so boldly; would there were more like thee to arouse the Catholics of our country."
The frown passed as a cloud from the brow of the elder conspirator.
"Forgive me!" cried he, "if my words bore too much of the flame of impatience and too little of that unity which should ever be between us. As to Sir Winter, fear nothing; even now, I warrant he is on his way hither, having perhaps been delayed by some slight adventure, for the times are troublous and after nightfall a gentleman may not walk with perfect safety through the streets of London."
As though in answer to this confidence, the speaker had scarcely finished, when there sounded through the house three muffled raps, and Percy, uttering an exclamation, hastily left the room.