efulness in his household, but, within and without, the
hour was soundless. He stole across the room to the window, then
hesitated. Pressing his burning temples with his hands, he tried to
come to some decision as to his conduct. Should he quietly summon a
few of his men, bring in the plotters and arrest them? If he did this,
surely it would atone for the dealings he had had with them? Honour
whispered, "Get thee to thy slumbers, and go to-morrow to the admiral
and make thy confession." He turned away from the lattice. A slight
rattle attracted his attention. The blood rushed from his face,
leaving him as cold as death. The dark form of Basil, silhouetted by
the moonlight, was confronting him. One glare of angry reproach from
the sinister eyes was enough. He opened the casement; Basil stepped
in, and Father Jerome followed.

The two stood and eyed him severely. The priest laid his hand on his
shoulder, and the ghost of a smile flickered across his pale
countenance. Many a poor wretch had found that smile a herald of
tragedy. Such it now appeared to the hapless owner of Dean Tower.

"'Tis past midnight, my son," said Jerome.

Windybank made no reply. The grip on his shoulder tightened with a
startling suddenness. "'Tis past midnight, my son."

"Yes?--is it? I was coming, good father," faltered the victim.

"When thou art doing the work of a king--of the Holy Father--of God,"
whispered the priest, "thou shouldst put wings upon thy feet. Take
heed, my son! We love thee" (the smile deepened); "we look to thee to
do great things and earn great rewards. Let not our dearest hopes be
disappointed."

Windybank glanced at Basil. There was death in the fanatic's eyes.
"Forgive me," he murmured, and sank upon his knees.

Jerome raised him, and imprinted a cold kiss upon his forehead. "Sit,"
he said.

"The admiral hath held a council at Newnham to-day, and thou hast lost
heart because a few dull wits have been pondering together," pursued
the priest. "Dost thou know their plans?"

"Partly, father."

"A child might laugh at them! Our brave Basil here will reduce their
watchmen to a jelly of terror before this moon wanes. When flies catch
spiders, then these fools will catch us. Now hearken. If thou dost
show the white feather again, thou diest; Basil hath sworn it. That is
all that I have to say to thee by way of threat or reproof. Now this,
by way of encouragement. We _cannot_ fail. 'Tis th