crashing of bent and broken timbers, and the
affrighted cries of the luckless inmates of the room. Yet in one thing
there seemed to be a merciful interposition. Carried upward by force
of the explosion, the bag containing a greater quantity of the powder
was hurled through the opening in the roof, and fell into the yard
untouched by fire; had it been otherwise, the public executioner's
work would have been less, and fewer dripping heads had graced the
spikes upon the Tower.

Blinded by fire and smoke but unharmed, save for a scorching of the
hair and beard, the conspirators groped their way into the open air.
Upon their souls rested a cloud of superstitious dread. In the
explosion of the gunpowder they saw the hand of God; and--'twas not
turned against the King!

* * * * *

It was scarce daybreak when the horse bearing Sir Thomas Winter
stopped before the door of the ill-fated Holbeach mansion. Report had
reached him of the explosion, also that many of his companions were
sorely wounded, and that Catesby lay dead, with body shattered by the
firing of the powder. Then was proved his gentle blood, and the valor
of his race. Those with him when he received the news begged him to
fly; but he only looked upon them with clouded brow, and said: "Nay;
Catesby is dead. I will see to his burial; a gallant gentleman,--and
my friend!"

Thus he rode in all haste to Holbeach, to find there his friends
unharmed;--close following him were the soldiers of the King.

Scant time was given to the luckless gentlemen to prepare for
receiving them.

"What have ye resolved to do?" asked Winter, having heard the story of
the night.

"We mean to die," replied Percy stoutly; "we can scarce hold the house
an hour."

"Then," said Winter quietly, "I will take such part as you do." And
looking to his sword and firearms, he leaned against the casement of
the window facing the road on which the King's men would come.

Toward noon they came, a gallant company of gentlemen and musketeers,
flushed with the early morning ride and filled with zeal to take the
traitors who awaited them behind the walls of Master Littleton's
house. Watching from the window Winter saw many faces which he knew;
Sir John Foliot, Francis Conyers, Salway, Ketelsby, all staunch
adherents of the King;--men who, being dispatched upon any errand,
would carry it through most zealously. Before the cavalcade rode a
doughty gentleman, Sir Richar