“Your letter to Lord Mounteagle is in my possession,” replied Catesby. “Behold it!”
“Perdition!” exclaimed Tresham. “But you will not slay me? I have betrayed nothing. I have revealed nothing. On my soul's salvation, I have not! Spare me! spare me! and I will be a faithful friend in future. I have been indiscreet—I own it—but nothing more. I have mentioned no names. And Lord Mounteagle, as you well know, is as zealous a Catholic as any now present.”
“Your letter has been sent to the Earl of Salisbury,” pursued Catesby, coldly. “It was from him I obtained it.”
“Then Lord Mounteagle has betrayed me,” returned Tresham, becoming pale as death.
“Have you nothing further to allege?” demanded Catesby. As Tresham made no answer, he turned to the others, and said, “Is it your judgment he should die?”
All, except Viviana, answered in the affirmative.
“Tresham,” continued Catesby, solemnly, “prepare to meet your fate like a man. And do you, father,” he added to Garnet, “proceed to shrive him.”
“Hold!” cried Viviana, stepping into the midst of them,—"hold!” she exclaimed, in a voice so authoritative, and with a look so commanding, that the whole assemblage were awe-stricken. “If you think to commit this crime with impunity, you are mistaken. I swear by everything sacred, if you take this man's life, I will go forth instantly, and denounce you all to the Council. You may stare, sirs, and threaten me, but you shall find I will keep my word.”
“We must put her to death too,” observed Catesby, in an under tone to Fawkes, “or we shall have a worse enemy left than Tresham.”
“I cannot consent to it,” replied Fawkes.