"Nay, this is glorious," said Grasp; "the plot does indeed thicken, as the saying is. The fiend take the good Sir Hugh; I would sacrifice fifty such clients, and see them hanged, drawn, and quartered into the bargain, for such a chance as this. And now let us lay our heads together, and consult how to capture these bloody-minded conspirators with most advantage to our own proper selves. How shall we proceed, honoured sir? Shall we rouse the whole posse comitatus, and attack the house in which these miscreants are engendering, and hatching, and concocting those horrors; or, shall we go incontinent, and give secret intelligence to Sir Thomas Lucy at Charlecote?"
"That I must leave to your discretion, good Grasp," said Neville. "Your part must be to secure them ere twenty-four hours have elapsed. Meantime, I must ride post haste to London, and give information to the Queen or her ministers of the whole affair."
"I would your worship would remain here, and capture the caitiffs, whilst I proceed up to town with information," said Grasp. "Methinks, as you are a man of war, and I am a man of law, that would be the most proper arrangement."
"By no means," said Neville. "Manage the matter as I have told thee. Do it well and effectually, and reward is sure to follow to us both. It is essential that I should myself gain favour by the discovery, and if I should succeed to the estates and title of Westmoreland, I shall not forget the service you have rendered. Be wary, and prosper. Farewell." So saying, the visitor hastily took his leave, and a few minutes afterwards was riding furiously towards Warwick, on his way to London.
"Now, there's a bloody-minded and dangerous Jesuit for you," said Grasp to himself. "He thinks I know not that he's a Catholic, I suppose, and that I cannot guess he has been as deep in this vile plot as the rest of them. But I do bear a brain, and I can perceive that the death of his relation hath completely turned his conscience, and now, in place of helping to murder the Queen, he's going to hang up all his associates, by turning evidence. A bad world, my masters, and bad folks in it! But then it's by the bad I gain and thrive; bickerings, quarrellings, evil-speaking, lying, and slander, plots, counterplots, conspiracies, hangings, and headings, are my especial good. So now to consider and contrive this matter. Let me see—I instantly hasten off to the high bailiff, get together a sufficient body of his men, and then, my masters, look to yourselves! A plot to kill the Queen, subvert the Government, and burn the whole kingdom in an auto-da-fé! By all that's good, the business will not be effected without blood-letting on both sides! Let me see, who have we of approved valour and conduct to aid us in this capture? There's Master John Shakespeare; he's a good man and a true one, that will thrust in, and smite hard. His grandsire did good service at Bosworth Field. Then there's Goodman Rivett, the armourer; he hath an arm of might, and a heart of steel,—him will I also look up, an we need special men. Then there's—Yet," continued Grasp, pausing, and considering the matter, "methinks, after all, it would be better to put the affair at once into the management of Sir Thomas Lucy. Yes, I will incontinently and instantaneously proceed to Charlecote, and do so. Let me see; 'tis now about one hour after noon. I shall catch the proud knight just before he takes his post-prandium ride."
So saying, Grasp donned his hat, and prepared for his visit to Charlecote.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SONNET.
When Shakespeare took leave of his newly-found friends at Clopton, he left a deep impression behind him.