There were always in the Palace several of the Conspirators, walking up and down like Courtiers out of Place, whose Business it was to observe what was done within; but on the Evening of the last of _November_, they came in a Fright to their Companions, to tell them that _Vasconcellos_ (by whose Death they were to begin the mighty Work) was just gone on board a Yacht, and had cross'd the _Tagus_. Who but Conspirators would have taken notice of so indifferent a thing? For a thousand Reasons, in which they were not concern'd, might have made him go on the other side of the Water; but they immediately concluded, that this artful Statesman, who had always his Spies abroad, had discover'd their Plot, and was about to bring into _Lisbon_ those Soldiers which were quarter'd in the Villages on the other side of the River. Death, in its most ghastly Shape, appear'd to them, and they fancy'd that they already felt the cruellest Torments which could be inflicted. Some were resolving to fly into _Africa_, others into _England_; and all of them spent the first part of the Night in the greatest Disquiet imaginable, between the Hopes of Life and Fear of Death. But about the middle of the Night their Apprehensions vanish'd; for some who had been sauntring about the Port, to endeavour to discover the Secretary's Design, came and brought them the welcome News, that _Vasconcellos_ had been only diverting himself upon the Water, and that he was return'd, with the Musick playing before him. A sudden Joy succeeded to their Grief, and about an hour after, being inform'd that every thing was quiet in the Palace, and every body bury'd in a profound Sleep, they return'd home to enjoy a little Rest; that they might be fitter for the Morning's Work.