“Because I have not been able to raise it,” replied Tresham, sullenly. “I have tried in vain to sell part of my estates at Rushton, in Northamptonshire. I cannot effect impossibilities.”
“Tush!” cried Catesby, fiercely. “You well know I ask no impossibility. I will no longer be trifled with. The money must be forthcoming by the tenth of October, or you shall pay the penalty with your life.”
“This is the language of a cut-throat, Mr. Catesby,” replied Tresham.
“It is the only language I will hold towards you,” rejoined Catesby, contemptuously. “Look you disappoint me not, or take the consequences.”
“I must leave for Northamptonshire at once, then,” said Tresham.
“Do as you please,” returned Catesby. “Play the cut-throat yourself, and ease some rich miser of his store, if you think fit. Bring us the money, and we will not ask how you came by it.”
“Before we separate,” said Tresham, disregarding these sneers, “I wish to be resolved on one point. Who are to be saved from destruction?”
“Why do you ask?” inquired Fawkes.
“Because I must stipulate for the lives of my brothers-in-law, the Lords Mounteagle and Stourton.”
“If anything detains them from the meeting, well and good,” replied Catesby. “But no warning must be given them. That would infallibly lead to a discovery of the plot.”