atone for the fruitless efforts of its fellows, sped on
its deathly errand, striking Robert Catesby in the neck, passing quite
through, and burying itself in the breast of Percy, who with scarce a
cry fell dead at Winter's feet.

Bleeding profusely, Catesby attempted to regain his footing, but death
was near and he fell back crying to Winter to lift him up that he
might help defend the doorway. The conspirators who remained unharmed,
drew back in terror, crouching behind the furniture with no thought of
resisting the King's authority.

Seeing that Percy, Rookwood and the two Wrights were dead, Catesby
dying, and none to support him, Winter cast aside his sword and bent
over his stricken comrade. At that moment certain of the sheriff's men
charging upon the open doorway, perceived him standing there, and one,
bearing a pike, thrust it at him so that the point pierced his doublet
and wounded him grievously. Staggering under the blow Winter, his
clothes covered with blood, gave back, and again was wounded in the
side by a rapier.

"Cowards!" cried he, striking blindly at the foremost soldier with
his naked hand, "can ye not touch a vital part, but must torture me
so?"

One, perceiving him sorely wounded and unarmed, seized him and in a
moment he was bound and dragged into the yard.

The others, Keyes, John Grant and Henry Morgan, were quickly overcome,
and now of the nine Catholic gentlemen who had resolved to defend the
house, five lay dead, and four were in the hands of the authorities.

Having so handily brought his errand to a successful termination Sir
Richard, of Worcestershire, fell into great good humor.

"Faith!" cried he, sheathing his bloodless sword, "'tis a merry
gathering for my Lord of Salisbury to look upon. Four plump birds
ready for the axe man, and four and one knocking at the gate of hell.
Rare sport, in truth, hath been the taking of so ill a brood;
therefore, gentlemen, to London and the Tower with the nine. Though
some be dead, their necks are ready for the axe, I warrant. 'Tis a
brave sight will greet the populace, anon."

CHAPTER XXV.

REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.

Those who watched with Fawkes said he partook of no food, slept
not--neither spoke, and refused to utter the names of his fellow
conspirators. He sat all day in his cell without moving. At times
there came into his drawn and haggard face a strange and unearthly
light, as though he suddenly beheld a form glide from out the