"The gate of hell," retorted Wright, kicking the bar with his foot, "nine feet of it, by Master Percy's computation, and, I warrant, as many years will be required to see the further side. Try it, good Catesby, 'tis a nut a giant could scarce crack, though he wield a battering ram."
Taking up a lantern which stood by the wall, Catesby examined the masonry with great carefulness.
"Thou shouldst have struck the mortar," said he, tapping the cement between the blocks of stone with the point of his drill, "wouldst tear away the rock itself?"
For some moments he worked diligently, streaming with perspiration and his loud breathing filling the narrow place. A hole scarce three inches deep rewarded his exertions.
"'Tis well reasoned," growled he at length, "here is a riddle for Master Fawkes; wilt summon him, friend Percy?"
Glad for an excuse to leave for a moment the ill-savored cellar, Percy hastened on his errand, and Fawkes presently entered, looking keenly about.
"What now, gentlemen?" said he, "hast made an opening?"
"That have we not, save through this wall of brick," replied Catesby, "methinks thy gunpowder could scarce open a further way, friend Guido. Look thou at yon barrier of stone."
Taking the lantern, Fawkes followed the suggestion. "'Tis, in truth, most strongly put together," said he at length, "but with due patience and diligence this also may be overcome. Give me a drill."
Having received one from the hand of Winter he attacked the masonry, striking here, picking there, until, having loosened a goodly portion of cement, he caught up a heavy crowbar, and inserting its point into the narrow opening, bore down upon the iron with all his strength and the block of stone, freed from its fastening, was detached and fell with a dull crash upon the floor at his feet.