Part 14 (1/2)
”I can, Master, for many a pot of ale I've drank in that same place.
Look,” he continued, pointing, ”if thou wilt follow this street until the second turning to the right, from there thou canst readily see the tavern's sign.”
”My thanks to thee,” said Winter, taking a coin from his purse and handing it to the man. His eyes again for a moment turned upon the prostrate figure. ”And my friends,” added he, ”I would deem it expedient that ye notify the guards, and have this unsightly thing removed.” He then turned and proceeded in the direction given him.
This incident brought a renewal of the apprehensions which had haunted him earlier in the morning, and he muttered as he went on his way: ”There is the first consequence of my folly, and the next may be--nay, courage; heaven will not be so merciless as to permit one evil deed to overthrow our cause. G.o.d will pardon this hasty sin, when he who committed it doth risk life in His holy work. But,” he added, with a smile, ”'tis providential justice which slew the man, for the dead utter no words.” At last he arrived before the house which he sought.
”Marry,” he exclaimed, gazing at the exterior of the tavern; ”'tis indeed a sorry place for the saintly Garnet to reside in, but it has the advantage of being a secure retreat.” He tried the door, which yielded to his touch, and entered the apartment. On the tables stood the remains of last night's libations, and the air hung heavy with the odor of stale tobacco smoke. Over all was a spell of silent desolation, as if the ghosts of the songs and merry jests, which had echoed from the walls, had returned with aching heads to curse the room.
”This is a sweet place, truly,” said Winter, looking upon the table.
After a short delay the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching, a door opened and the host entered. Giles Martin, not at once recognizing the man who stood by the table, regarded his guest with some little surprise, for a customer at that early hour was rare.
”To what may I serve thee, sir?” said he, advancing toward Winter.
”Well, Master Martin,” exclaimed the one addressed, ”dost so soon forget a face? It is, I swear, a poor trick for a landlord.”
”What, Sir Thomas?” cried the other in surprise, holding out his hand, ”I did not recognize thee in this uncertain light. A thousand pardons, and highly am I honored to find thee in my humble house.”
”'Tis but small honor I do thee,” replied the man, with a laugh, drawing off his gauntlets. ”Didst receive my letter?”
”Aye, that I did, and have shown the bearer of it every courtesy which this poor tavern can provide. Much am I gratified to learn that Sir Thomas Winter remembered one whom he hath not seen since----”
”Nay, good Martin, I do recall the time thou wouldst name. But pray tell me, is my cavalier friend up at this early hour, for I would confer with him.”
Giles cast a quick glance at the speaker, then letting his eyes fall, said:
”That he is, and little hath he slept this night, for 'twas late ere he arrived, and when I arose I heard him walking about.”
”Then wilt thou tell him I await; or--nay, stop--thou needst not announce me; I will see him in his chamber. Show the way, I will follow.”
”As thou dost wish,” said Giles, turning to open a door which hid a flight of rickety stairs leading to the floor above. Reaching the landing Winter noted that Martin was about to follow and exclaimed:
”Nay, show me the portal, I will not trouble thee further. And if thou wilt be so kind, see to it that we are not disturbed in our conversation.”
”Have no fear for that, Sir Thomas, I will take care that none do interrupt. The room is in front of thee,” saying which, Martin turned and descended the stairs.
Winter tapped upon the panel.
”Enter,” said a quiet voice.
He lifted the latch and pa.s.sed into the room. The prelate had evidently been engaged in prayer, for, as the other stepped within, the priest was arising from his knees. His face seemed in strange contrast to the garb he had donned; the delicate, almost effeminate features of the man were little in keeping with the gay attire of a cavalier.
”Ah, Sir Thomas,” exclaimed the Jesuit, advancing with gentle dignity and extended hand, ”glad am I to see thee, for I have been more than lonely, but,” he added, with a bright smile, ”'tis not my nature to complain; these be but small discomforts, and gladly would I endure greater in the service of my Master. Hast any news? Hath aught happened since we met? But pray be seated,” he added, pointing to one of the two chairs, which, with a low bed, comprised the furniture of the room.
”Nay, good father, nothing hath transpired,” replied the other, a shade pa.s.sing athwart his face; ”and now tell me, what dost thou think of Fawkes? Is his enthusiasm great enough to serve our purpose?”
”A most terrible man, but one whose cruelty rests upon the love of G.o.d. Indeed, it is as thou didst say, if each Catholic in England were possessed of but one-half his zeal, then would the gutters run red with the blood of heretics; 'twas such as he who made the eve of St.
Bartholomew. Are we free to speak?” queried Garnet, leaning toward the other.
”Quite free,” replied Winter, ”a faithful friend of mine is on guard that we be not interrupted.”
”Then, 'tis well; I have spent the night in prayer, beseeching the Almighty to lead my mind aright that I may decide the justice of the plan proposed. Ah,” exclaimed the Jesuit, arising, and with hands clenched before him, ”'tis a hideous act, but,” an expression of fierceness coming into his gentle face, ”my supplication was answered, the deed is favored by G.o.d, for He hath sent me a token of His approval.”