o such iniquity. Yet
he knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no mere
hirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that they
were gentlemen, most of them of noble birth and large means, all of
them actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; and
that they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in any
way precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thing
might be accomplished.

Well, it was a mystery, and one that he could not fathom. He could
only feel thankful that no compulsion lay upon him to make known
what he had seen and heard. His word had been pledged to Catesby
and Father Urban, and how to have broken it he knew not. But there
was no call for him even to think of this. It was not he who had
discovered this strange plot. The knowledge of it was already with
the King and his ministers. The conspirators themselves were half
aware of this; Cuthbert well remembered the words of fear
concerning some letter spoken in the lonely garden at Lambeth but a
couple of days back.

How dared they, knowing so much, pursue their dark scheme? The
youth shuddered as he marvelled at them. Did they believe
themselves yet secure? What a fearful thing security such as that
might become! Cuthbert longed to warn them, yet feared to
intermeddle further in such a matter. And at least his first
business lay in the warning he must instantly convey to Sir
Richard, and that without revealing more of the truth than was
absolutely necessary. Cuthbert was worldly wise enough to be well
aware that the greatest protection his kinsmen could have against
suspicion was absolute ignorance of the matter of which they stood
suspected.

Sir Richard was absent when Cuthbert asked for him, but his son was
at home, and the visitor was ushered into a room where Philip and
Culverhouse were sitting together conversing by the glow of a
bright fire of sea coal.

He was made very welcome by his cousin, and quickly plunged into
the matter in hand.

"Philip," he said, "I have come to ask whether the business that
has brought you to town is yet accomplished."

"Yes, verily," answered Philip, surprised. "We came to talk of
Kate's rash marriage with Culverhouse there, and if it was such as
might safely be ignored. My Lord and Lady of Andover, however, had
adjudged that their son is too far pledged to draw back, and that
for the sake of the lady's honour and happiness they must be held
to be solemnly