--No, no; it was a papists' den--a massing-house.--Well, God save her
Grace and rid her of her enemies. With these damned Spaniards everywhere,
England was going to ruin.--They had escaped at the back. No; they tried
that way, but it was guarded.--There were over fifty papists, some said,
in that house.--It was a plot. Mary was mixed up in it. The Queen was to
be blown up with powder, like poor Darnley. The barrels were all stored
there.--No, no, no! it was nothing but a massing-house.--Who was the
priest?--Well, they would see him at Tyburn on a hurdle; and serve him
right with his treasonable mummery.--No, no! they had had enough of
blood.--Campion had died like a man; and an Englishman too--praying for
his Queen."--The incessant battle and roar went up.
* * * *
Meanwhile lights were beginning to shine everywhere in the dark house. A
man with a torch was standing in a smoky glare half way up the stairs
seen through the door, and the interior of the plain hall was
illuminated. Then the leaded panes overhead were beginning to shine out.
Steel caps moved to and fro; gigantic shadows wavered; the shadow of a
halberd head went across a curtain at one of the lower windows.
A crimson-faced man threw open a window and shouted instructions to the
sentry left at the door, who in answer shook his head and pointed to the
bellowing crowd; the man at the window made a furious gesture and
disappeared. The illumination began to climb higher and higher as the
searchers mounted from floor to floor; thin smoke began to go up from one
or two of the chimneys in the frosty air;--they were lighting straw to
bring down any fugitives concealed in the chimneys.
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