are locked together in a
firm embrace; the slender figure of the child bent and tortured by the
cruel pressure of the pitiless fingers. She struggled desperately, and
in her efforts to free herself Fawkes finds the way to end the matter
quickly.

"Thou wouldst undo the work," he hisses. "Didst think to find me
unprepared? Thou art a cunning knave, but this----"

No eye, save that of God, sees the uplifting of the dagger, the quick
movement of the arm, the rapid thrust which drives the fatal steel
into that tender breast, letting forth her life-blood upon the rough
pavement of the cellar.

Elinor reeled and released her hold upon him. In her agony God
stretched forth His hand and held her in His grasp so that, ere she
died, the end for which she had come might be accomplished. One word,
a bitter cry wrung from her heart, escaped her lips: "Father!"

But Fawkes heeded it not. As he sent home the dagger his foot struck
the lantern, overturning it, and sent the iron case with its burning
contents rolling across the floor toward the powder train. In another
instant the fire will have reached the fuse,--and 'tis not yet time!

With a frantic push he hurled the victim of his murderous blow away
from him, and hastened to snatch the sputtering light. His violence
flung the stricken girl to the floor, but with a last effort of will,
she staggered to her feet and groped blindly for the door, one little
hand outstretched before her, the other covering the cruel wound made
by her father's knife.

At last she found the portal, and gained the narrow way to the street.
There was but one thought in her heart,--to reach the hall above
before death claimed her.

* * * * *

Within the House of Lords all was ready for the opening of the
Parliament. James, clothed in royal robes of State, and exchanging
jests with his favorites, was lolling upon the throne. The peers were
in their seats; some, deep in conversation, others, silently gazing at
the gorgeous scene of which they were a part. At a table standing near
the space before the throne, sat Lord Monteagle and his son, the
latter engaged in arranging the notes of his speech on the bill which
he was soon to bring before the House. Effingston seemed to be
strangely nervous as the hour for his address drew near and his
father had evidently made some jesting remark concerning his tremulous
hand, when suddenly the attention of all was drawn toward the gr