The others, Keyes, John Grant and Henry Morgan, were quickly overcome, and now of the nine Catholic gentlemen who had resolved to defend the house, five lay dead, and four were in the hands of the authorities. Having so handily brought his errand to a successful termination Sir Richard, of Worcestershire, fell into great good humor. "Faith!" cried he, sheathing his bloodless sword, "'tis a merry gathering for my Lord of Salisbury to look upon. Four plump birds ready for the axe man, and four and one knocking at the gate of hell. Rare sport, in truth, hath been the taking of so ill a brood; therefore, gentlemen, to London and the Tower with the nine. Though some be dead, their necks are ready for the axe, I warrant. 'Tis a brave sight will greet the populace, anon." CHAPTER XXV. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. Those who watched with Fawkes said he partook of no food, slept not--neither spoke, and refused to utter the names of his fellow conspirators. He sat all day in his cell without moving. At times there came into his drawn and haggard face a strange and unearthly light, as though he suddenly beheld a form glide from out the shadow of the dungeon, and kneel beside him. At these moments he would stretch forth his arms as if to embrace the airy figure of his brain, and whisper, nodding his head slowly the while: "Thou wert all I had--in a moment, darling;--wait until thy father can but pass this dreary portal." They put him to the rack, but elicited nothing. He endured the torture as though scarce feeling it; and even in agony, was heard to mutter: "In a moment, my little one--but a moment more." His trial, with that of the others implicated in the plot, was over. The sentence of death had been pronounced upon each. Three days after, Everard Digsby, with Robert Winter and Grant, met death by hanging in the churchyard of St. Paul's. Three remained awaiting the headsman's axe--Thomas Winter, Keyes and Guido Fawkes. Their execution was anticipated by the populace of London with unwonted eagerness. The desire of the people to see justice meted to those whom they deemed the prime movers in a conspiracy which had shaken England to its foundation, was only rivaled by the curiosity resident in each heart, to behold the one who, with undaunted nerve, had stood beneath the House of Lords ready to fire the mine which would rob the kingdom at one fell blow of both its monarch and Parliament. In that age public executions were signals for general holidays; people flocked from the most distant shires, decked in best attire, to witness the doing to death of some poor malefactor. But this was no ordinary occasion; and, as if to emphasize the fact, a great throng had assembled at Westminster even before the sun arose, on the day set apart for the beheading of the remaining three conspirators.