Abraham Dyson had been warned by a letter of the peril in which his son stood--a mysteriously-worded letter, but one that was evidently written by a friend. It advised that Dyson and his friends should proceed at once to Westminster and Whitehall, where the excitement would be at its height, and there they would find Jacob in custody, and would doubtless be able speedily to obtain his release, since he had been arrested under a misapprehension.
Whoever had written these words had plainly known the truth; for when the city men had almost fought their way through a howling and wildly excited mob, they found Jacob, bound and guarded, being just led before some of the King's counsellors under the name of Cuthbert Trevlyn.
"That man is not Cuthbert Trevlyn," shouted old Abraham, forgetting all but the fact that he saw his son in dire and deadly peril. "This is a quiet and peaceable Protestant citizen. Here am I with friends ready to testify the same. This is nothing but another vile Papist plot, conceived to strive to do to death good, peaceable citizens of contrary faith, while they escape the doom their traitorous villainy deserves!"
This astute form of vindication roused another clamour from the crowd. There was not the smallest difficulty in proving Jacob's identity, in establishing his innocence and obtaining his release. Those in authority saw at once that it was one of those innumerable cases of mistaken identity, and did not even care to waste time over a close inquiry into circumstances; whilst the bystanders were raving in indignant sympathy, perfectly convinced that it was all the work of the conspirators themselves, to try to throw their own guilt upon the innocent, and by no means sure that their own turn might not come next.
When Jacob was free, he turned to the King's counsellors and said:
"If it please you gentlemen to fall upon and make away with a notable band of outlaws and robbers, who have long made the terror of the southern roads, they be all beneath your very hand today--gathered together in an old barge not far above Lambeth, where they be waiting the issue of this day's work, knowing far more about it than peaceable and well-minded men should do. Tyrrel is the name of the leader, and he and the best part of his band will hold high revel there this night. They will fall an easy prey in your hands if it please you to send and take them."
The crowd shouted in delight. There was no love lost between the citizens of London and those freebooters who made all travel so perilous, and the name of Tyrrel was widely known and widely feared. The counsellors conferred together awhile and asked many questions of Jacob, and then they released him with courteous words of regret, intimating that if good came of this hunt after the outlaws he should not lose his reward.
His father lost no time in getting him safely home, and questioning him closely as to how he came to find himself in such a predicament; but all he answered was that he and Cuthbert had been about a good deal together, and that they had been mistaken for one another. As for Cuthbert, he was safe enough, but would remain in hiding for some few weeks. He was innocent of all complicity in the plot; but his carelessness had caused him to be suspected of some knowledge of it, and suspicion at a moment of popular frenzy was almost as fatal as actual guilt. When the real culprits had been discovered and had paid the penalty of their crime, smaller persons would be safe once more. Silence and obscurity were the safest shields for the present, and to no living soul did he reveal the secret of Cuthbert's hiding place.
London was soon ringing with the news of the death or capture of the plotters of the Gunpowder Treason, as it quickly began to be called; and those interested in the matter heard with satisfaction that Tyrrel and his band had been surprised, and all upon the barge had been either apprehended or slain. Tyrrel had died sword in hand, as became a man of his calling, and the few who had escaped to their old haunts had warned their comrades there, who had fled the south country forthwith, and were scattered no man knew whither.
Only to one person did Jacob presently tell the whole story of that strange night when he set out to rescue Cuthbert from dire peril, and that person was his cousin Keziah. The tale aroused her deepest interest, and from that moment Jacob became to her a hero as well as an idol. The honest youth had never been idolized before--never in his wildest moments had he hoped to rise to the level of a hero; and there was something so wonderful in finding himself so regarded that it began to have a softening and even an elevating effect upon him, and to draw forth an answering admiration and love.