“Ay, is there twa heids weel screwit on? I jalouse, my Lord Monteagle, ye’re saying ae word for my Lord Northumberland and twa for yoursel’. Be it sae: a man hath but ane life. My Lord Chamberlain, can ye no raise a bit rumour that a wheen o’ the hangings are missing that suld ha’e been in the Wardrobe in Wyniard’s keeping? Then gang your ways, and turn out the faggots.”
“And, if it might please your Majesty,” suggested the Lord Chamberlain, “were it not best some other made the search—one of the gentlemen of your privy chamber,—so as to rouse less suspicion?”
“Ay, gang your ways, and send auld Knevet down, wi’ a pair or twa o’ younger hands to toss the faggots.”
“Might it not be well also, Sire, to extend the search to the houses adjoining the Parliament House, and so make examination of the lodging where Mr Percy lieth?”
“Do sae, do sae,” responded the King. “I affy me in you: only heed this, What you do, do throughly.”
Just as the Abbey clock struck eleven, Fawkes came out of Percy’s rooms, and went down into the vault by the door which had been made the previous Easter. He carried in one hand a dark lantern, lighted, and in the other a piece of touchwood, and a match eight or nine inches in length. As he set the lantern down in the corner of the vault, he felt a touch upon his shoulder, and looked up in alarm until he met the eyes of Robert Keyes.
“Mr Fawkes, take this watch, which Mr Percy sends you, that you may the better know when to fire the train.”
Keyes spoke in a very low tone, so that he might not be heard outside. Fawkes took the watch, and secreted it carefully. Watches were rare and precious things, not carried by every gentleman even when wealthy; and Percy had bought this one for its special purpose.
Keyes departed, and Fawkes opened the door of the vault for a breath of fresh air. He had scarcely come out, and closed it behind him, when another hand grasped his shoulder, not with the light touch of his confederate.
“Who are you?” asked the voice of an old man.