ward to better see the stricken girl
growing rigid in the clasp of death. So profound was the silence in
the great hall, that the footsteps of those without were heard with
startling distinctness in every part of the room. Before all the
peers, leaned Lord Monteagle, his gaze riveted upon the face of his
son. As for Effingston he heeded nothing; like an image of stone he
stood, his limbs powerless and his blood turned to ice; the face of
the dead was not whiter than his, yet, upon her face was the smile of
peace, in his, the shadow of conscious, mortal agony.

So sudden had been the coming of that tender maid, born of the people,
but now more noble than any lord of England, that none save,
perchance, Salisbury, Monteagle and the King, comprehended its
meaning. The girl's dying cry that all should flee the House of
Parliament, was a mystery to the lords; but to the mind of the Prime
Minister, and to Monteagle and James, came as by a flash of lightning,
the veiled meaning in the letter, which, strong in his feeling of
security, the King had hitherto looked upon as an idle jest, gotten up
to disturb his dreams. Raising his eyes from the spot where Elinor
lay, her blood staining the polished floor, he turned them upon
Salisbury, with a look of interrogation. The Minister collected by an
effort his scattered senses. Into his mind came as though by Divine
inspiration some inkling of the nature of the threatened danger.
Turning quickly, he summoned to his side Master Edmond Doubleday, an
officer of the royal household.

"Go," said he hoarsely, "into the cellar, and whosoever thou findest
there, be it man or woman, seize quickly. Perchance the King's life
dependeth upon thy expedition."

Of quick wit, the officer comprehended that his superior had surmised
some plot, the solution of which might be found below. Hastening from
the hall he gathered on the way a dozen gentlemen, and together the
company hurried from the House and sought the door which opened to the
chamber under it. Something guided their steps--great, crimson
splashes upon the pavement, blood drops which left a well-marked trail
from the space before the throne of the King--to the narrow entrance
of the cellar wherein lay the danger which they must avert. Little did
Guido Fawkes know--as little had the dead girl comprehended--that her
heart's blood would mark the way which would lead him to the scaffold
because it would be the means of hastening on his enemies,