"By St. George," he added after a moment, slackening his pace as if a sudden thought occurred to him, "they did seem but poorly pleased to see a strange face standing in their door, until Sir Walter stood sponsor for the same. Aye, and what names had these noble gentlemen--Catesby, Wright, Digsby, Percy! All good Catholics," he continued, a cunning smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "And, who is King? Why, James Stuart, to be sure, a most bigoted Protestant! What was it that Master Martin said about Mary's dripping head? Well, well, friend Guido, thy good sword may not be red with rust alone; wait but a little while, and thy employment may be most pleasing to thy taste, and thy conscience, also." Then he drew his cloak more closely about him and quickly proceeded on his way. At last, following the direction given him by Winter, Fawkes arrived before a small, neat house, situated in the outskirts of the city; stopping in front to make sure it was the one for which he was in quest, he proceeded up the steps and knocked thrice. No answer followed his summons, and after several moments of waiting, which were consumed in the stamping of feet and walking up and down, for it was bitterly cold in the frosty air, he again repeated the announcement of his presence to those within, this time with better result. The sound of a casement opening, caused him to look up, and he beheld the wrinkled visage of an old woman, who, with blinking red-rimmed eyes, and night-cap on her head, stood regarding him with an air of evident disfavor, for presently she cried in a shrill, toothless voice, "Get thee gone, thou beggar, I have naught for thee." "By my soul, good mother," answered the man, laughing heartily, "thy welcome doth match the morning air in warmth. Dost not know thy son Guy?" "By the blessed Virgin!" exclaimed she, in half-frightened tones, evidently engendered by a most wholesome respect for her son, "wait but a trice until the door be unbarred." Saying which, she hastily withdrew her head and closed the window. Immediately after, the shrill tones of her voice were heard within the house, crying: "Mistress Elinor! Mistress Elinor! hurry down and let thy sire in, for he stands without!" A moment of silence, followed by the drawing of bolts, and suddenly the door was thrown open, disclosing the figure of a girl, who, with outstretched arms, exclaimed: "My father!"