ther Urban shall not
be lacking. I owe him my life. I can never grudge any service for
him, be it great or small."

"Well spoken, my boy," answered the bookseller, with his calm,
penetrating smile. "May the blessed saints long preserve untainted
that true nobility of soul."

Cuthbert spent a restless day, wondering what mission the priest
had for him, and whether his uncle would be angry at him for
meddling in any such matters. But Martin Holt was friendly with
several of the Papist families about him, notably with the Coles
themselves; and Cuthbert had a growing sense of his own
independence and the right to choose his own associates and his own
path in life.

It was growing dusk when he stood beside the narrow bed on which
Father Urban lay. The light filtered in scantily through the narrow
window pane, and illumined a face lined by pain and white with
exhaustion. Upon the bed lay a packet which looked like papers, and
one of the priest's wasted hands lay upon it as if to guard it. As
Cuthbert bent over him and spoke his name, Father Urban looked up,
and a dim light crept into his eyes.

"Is it thou, my son, come at last?"

"Yes, Father. What may I do for thee?"

"Wilt thou do one small service more for me, my son?"

"Willingly, Father, if it lies within my power."

"It is well within thy power, boy. It is not the power I question,
but the will. We live in dangerous days. Art willing to partake of
the peril which compasses the steps of those who tread in the old
ways wherein the fathers trod?"

"Try me and see," was the quiet reply.

Perhaps none could better have suited the astute reader of
character. The hollow eyes lighted, and the old man bent upon
Cuthbert a searching glance whilst he seemed to pause to gather
strength.

"I would have thee take this packet," he said, speaking slowly and
with some pain and difficulty. "There is no superscription; and
sooner than let them be found by others on thy person, fling them
into the river, or cut them to fragments with thy dagger; and
plunge thy dagger into thine own heart sooner than be taken with
them upon thee. But with caution and courage and strength (and I
know that thou hast all of these) thou canst avoid this peril. What
thy part is, is but this: Deliver this packet into the hand of
Master Robert Catesby himself. Thou knowest him. Thou wilt make no
error. Seek him not at any tavern or public place. Go to a lone
house at Lambeth, with moss-grown step