you fill; and you, Edward Kelley, his associate, who boast of familiar intercourse with demons, and, unless fame belies you, have purchased the intimacy at the price of your soul's salvation. I know you both. I know, also, whose body you have disinterred—it is that of the ill-fated prophetess, Elizabeth Orton. And if you do not instantly restore it to the grave whence you have snatched it, I will denounce you to the authorities of the town.”
“Knowing thus much, you should know still more,” retorted Doctor Dee, “namely, that I am not to be lightly provoked. You have no power to quit the churchyard—nay, not so much as to move a limb without my permission.”
As he spoke, he drew from beneath his cloak a small phial, the contents of which he sprinkled over the intruder. Its effect was wonderful and instantaneous. The limbs of Guy Fawkes stiffened where he stood. His hand remained immovably fixed upon the pommel of his sword, and he seemed transformed into a marble statue.
“You will henceforth acknowledge and respect my power,” he continued. “Were it my pleasure, I could bury you twenty fathoms deep in the earth beneath our feet; or, by invoking certain spirits, convey you to the summit of yon lofty tower,” pointing to the church, “and hurl you from it headlong. But I content myself with depriving you of motion, and leave you in possession of sight and speech, that you may endure the torture of witnessing what you cannot prevent.”
So saying, he was about to return to the corpse with Kelley, when Guy Fawkes exclaimed, in a hollow voice,
“Set me free, and I will instantly depart.”
“Will you swear never to divulge what you have seen?” demanded Dee, pausing.
“Solemnly,” he replied.
“I will trust you, then,” rejoined the Doctor;—"the rather that your presence interferes with my purpose.”
Taking a handful of loose earth from an adjoining grave, and muttering a few words, that sounded like a charm, he scattered it over Fawkes. The spell was instantly broken. A leaden weight seemed to be removed from his limbs. His joints regained their suppleness, and with a convulsive start, like that by which a dreamer casts off a nightmare, he was liberated from his preternatural thraldom.
“And now, begone!” cried Doctor Dee, authoritatively.
“Suffer me to tarry with you a few moments,” said Guy Fawkes, in a deferential tone. “Heretofore, I will freely admit, I regarded you as an impostor; but now I am convinced you are deeply skilled in the occult sciences, and would fain consult you on the future.”
“I have already said that your presence troubles me,” replied Doctor Dee. “But if you will call upon me at the College to-morrow, it may be I will give you further proofs of my skill.”
“Why not now, reverend sir?” urged Fawkes. “The question I would ask is better suited to this dismal spot and witching hour, than to daylight and the walls of your study.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Dee. “Your name?”
“Guy Fawkes,” replied the other.
“Guy Fawkes!” echoed the Doctor, starting. “Nay, then, I guess the nature of the question you would ask.”
“Am I then known to you, reverend sir?” inquired Fawkes, uneasily.
“As well as to yourself—nay, better,” answered the Doctor. “Bring the lantern hither, Kelley,” he continued, addressing his companion. “Look!" he added, elevating the light so as to throw it upon the countenance of Fawkes: “it is the very face,—the bronzed and strongly-marked features,—the fierce black eye,—the iron frame, and foreign garb of the figure we beheld in the show-stone.”
“It is,” replied Kelley. “I could have singled him out amid a thousand. He looked thus as we tracked his perilous course, with his three companions, the priest, Chetham, and Viviana Radcliffe, across Chat Moss.”
“How have you learned this?” cried Guy Fawkes, in amazement.
“By the art that reveals all things,” answered Kelley.
“In proof that your thoughts are known to me,” observed Dee, “I will tell you the inquiry you would make before it is uttered. You would learn whether the enterprise on which you are engaged will succeed.”
“I would,” replied Fawkes.
“Yet more,” continued Dee. “I am aware of the nature of the plot, and could name to you all connected with it.”
“Your power is, indeed, wonderful,” rejoined Fawkes in an altered tone. “But will you give me the information I require?”
“Hum!” muttered Dee.
“I am too poor to purchase it,” proceeded Fawkes, “unless a relic I have brought from Spain has any value in your eyes.”
Doctor Dee, in conjunction with his Seer Edward Kelley, exhibiting his magical skill to Guy Fawkes
“Tush!” exclaimed Dee, angrily. “Do you suppose I am a common juggler, and practise my art for gain?”
“By no means, reverend sir,” said Fawkes. “But I would not willingly put you to trouble without evincing my gratitude.”
“Well, then,” replied Dee, “I will not refuse your request. And yet I would caution you to beware how you pry into the future. You may repent your rashness when it is too late.”
“I have no fear,” rejoined Fawkes. “Let me know the worst.”
“Enough,” answered Dee. “And now listen to me. That carcass having been placed in the ground without the holy rites of burial being duly performed, I have power over it. And, as the witch of Endor called up Samuel, as is recorded in Holy Writ,—as Erichtho raised up a corpse to reveal to Sextus Pompeius the event of the Pharsalian war,—as Elisha breathed life into the nostrils of the Shunamite's son,—as Alcestis was invoked by Hercules,—and as the dead maid was brought back to life by Apollonius Thyaneus,—so I, by certain powerful incantations, will allure the soul of the prophetess, for a short space, to its former tenement, and compel it to answer my questions. Dare you be present at this ceremony?”
“I dare,” replied Fawkes.
“Follow me, then,” said Dee. “You will need all your courage.”
Muttering a hasty prayer, and secretly crossing himself, Guy Fawkes strode after him towards the grave. By the Doctor's directions, he, with some reluctance, assisted Kelley to raise the corpse, and convey it to the charnel. Dee followed, bearing the lantern, and, on entering the building, closed and fastened the door.
The chamber in which Guy Fawkes found himself was in perfect keeping with the horrible ceremonial about to be performed. In one corner lay a mouldering heap of skulls, bones, and other fragments of mortality; in the other a pile of broken coffins, emptied of their tenants, and reared on end. But what chiefly attracted his attention, was a ghastly collection of human limbs, blackened with pitch, girded round with iron hoops, and hung, like meat in a shambles, against the wall. There were two heads, and, though the features
