“Silence, hell-dog!” vociferated a third soldier, placing the point of his halbert at his breast. “Host think Heaven would approve the foul deed thou meditatedst? Silence! I say, or I will drive my pike to thy heart.”
“I will not be silent,” rejoined Underhill, firmly. “So long as breath is left me, I will denounce the idolatrous queen by whom this unhappy land is governed, and pray that the crown may be removed from her head.”
“Rather than thou shalt do so in my hearing, I will pluck out thy traitorous tongue by the roots,” returned the soldier who had last spoken.
“Peace,” interposed the officer. “Secure him, but harm him not. He may have confederates. It is important that all concerned in this atrocious attempt should be discovered.”
“I have no accomplice,” replied Underhill. “My own heart dictated what my hand essayed.”
“May that hand perish in everlasting fire for the deed!” rejoined the officer. “But if there be power in torture to make you confess who set you on, it shall not be left untried.”
“I have already spoken the truth,” replied the enthusiast; “and the sharpest engine ever devised by ruthless man shall not make me gainsay it, or accuse the innocent. I would not have shared the glory of the action with any one. And since it has failed, my life alone shall pay the penalty.”
“Gag him,” cried the officer. “If I listen longer, I shall be tempted to anticipate the course of justice, and I would not one pang should be spared him.”
The command was obeyed. On searching him, they found a small powder-flask, a few bullets, notched, to make the wound they inflicted more dangerous, a clasp-knife, and a bible, in the first leaf of which was written a prayer for the deliverance and restoration of Queen Jane,—a circumstance afterwards extremely prejudicial to that unfortunate lady.
After Underhill had been detained for some hours in the chamber where he was seized, an order arrived to carry him before the council. Brought before them, he answered all their interrogations firmly, confessed his design, related how he had planned it, and denied as before, with the strongest asseverations, that he had any accomplice. When questioned as to the prayer for Lady Jane Grey, whom he treasonably designated “Queen Jane,” he answered that he should ever regard her as the rightful sovereign, and should pray with his latest breath for her restoration to the throne—a reply, which awakened a suspicion that some conspiracy was in agitation in Jane’s favour. Nothing further, however, could be elicited, and he was ordered to be put to the rack.