Aubrey's anger with Hans, therefore, was not based on any fear of discovery, arising from suspicion of his associates. He was only aiming at independence, combined with a little secret unwillingness to acknowledge his close connection with Mr Leigh's apprentice. Of the real end of the road on which he was journeying, he had not the least idea. Satan held out to him with a smile a fruit pleasant to the eyes and good for food, saying, "Thou shalt be as a god," and Aubrey liked the prospect, and accepted the apple. Having enjoyed himself for about an hour in this manner, and--quite unconsciously on his part--given some valuable information to his associates, he bade them good evening, and returned to Lord Oxford's mansion, in a state of the most delicately-balanced uncertainty whether to appear or not at the White Bear on the following evening. If only he could know how much Hans would tell the ladies! In the room which he had left, he formed for some minutes the subject of conversation. "Where picked you up that jewel?" asked Garnet of Winter. "He lives--or rather his friends do--next door to Tom Rookwood," answered Winter. "A pigeon worth plucking?" was the next question. "As poor as a church-mouse, but he knows things we need to know, and in point of wits he is a very pigeon. He no more guesseth what time of day it is with us than my Lord Secretary doth." The trio laughed complacently, but a rather doubtful expression succeeded that of amusement in Garnet's face. "Now, good gentlemen, be quiet," said he, piously. Was there a faint twinkle in his eyes? "God will do all for the best. We must get it by prayer at God's hands, in whose hands are the hearts of princes." "You pray, by all means, and we'll work," said Catesby, removing the pipe from his lips for an instant. At that moment the door opened, and a fourth gentleman made his appearance. He was as tall and as handsome as Catesby; but the considerable amount of white in his dark hair, and more slightly in his broad beard, made him look older than his real age, which was forty-six. He stooped a little in the shoulders. His manners were usually gentle and grave; but a pair of large and very lively eyes and an occasional impulsive eagerness of speech, wherein he was ready and fluent at all times, showed that there was more fire and life in his character than appeared on the surface. Those who knew him well were aware that his temper was impetuous and precipitate, and on given occasions might be termed quarrelsome without calumny. "Shall we always talk, gentlemen, and never do anything?" demanded the newcomer, without previous greeting. "Come in, Mr Percy, and with a right good welcome! The talk is well-nigh at an end, and the doing beginneth." "Our Lady be thanked!" was Percy's response. "We have dallied and delayed long enough. This morning have I been with Mr Fawkes over the house; and I tell you, the mining through that wall shall be no child's play."