Even if we suppose that this "admonition" was really given to Catesby as he describes it--one hesitates, because Garnet's conduct throughout is a classical example of casuistic perversion of truth--we can readily believe that Catesby took it very lightly, as Garnet says. Even if we could bring ourselves to admit that Garnet at the secret interview saw only an innocent and abstract moral issue, such as might be discussed in an open drawing-room, in Catesby's question, and therefore unwittingly sanctioned a bloody massacre, it is certain that he perceived on reflection that some such massacre was contemplated; yet he can only warn him to have regard for "friends and necessary persons," and feebly remind him of their duty of "quietness." Indeed in July, he confesses, he received "a very earnest letter" from General Acquaviva, who said, on behalf of the Pope, that they were vaguely conscious that something was contemplated by the English Catholics, and that the Pope and Acquaviva himself rigorously forbade any recourse to violence, as it would do more harm than good. He showed this letter to Catesby, because, he says, "I doubted he had some device in his head." Catesby admitted that he had, and offered to tell it to him. He refused to hear it, and merely stipulated that a layman should be sent to the Continent to learn if it were true that the Pope would not disapprove: a mission which, as Garnet knew, had no issue. This last interview with Catesby occurred in the latter half of July, more than two months before the proposed opening of Parliament (3rd October). By that time, therefore, Garnet was quite aware, without the least reference to the seal of confession, that the Catholic laity contemplated some deed which directly aimed at taking life on so large a scale that the innocent would suffer with the guilty, and it would need very little reflection to foresee that this deed was directed at the court or the Parliament, or both. Further, in order not to be obliged formally to condemn it, he refused, contrary to his plainest duty, to learn the details of it. The clue to his frame of mind seems to be given in his letter to Parsons in May. The laymen were "offended with the Jesuits" because they would not consent to "forcible enterprises"; he would therefore not interfere with their plot. He could, without violation of any sacramental confidence, because Catesby's admission to Father Greenway comes later, have prevented the plot from going any further, but he allowed this vague horror to proceed, and defied the emphatic command of the Pope and his General, in order that the Jesuits might not lose favour with the leading Catholic laymen. It is probable that he also trusted that the outrage would be justified by the result. Whatever his motives, his conduct was shifty, cowardly, and treacherous, and he fitly died the death of a traitor. He admits later in his "Declaration" that he "might have hindered all" by speaking to Catesby.