"My information, then, differed from yours.

Who were the parties you suspected ?" "As I _wrongfully_ suspected them," replied Tresham, evasively, "your lordship must excuse my naming them." "Was Catesby--or Winter--or Wright--or Rookwood--or Sir Everard Digby concerned in it ?" demanded Mounteagle.
"Not one of them," asseverated Tresham.
"They are the persons _I_ suspect," replied Mounteagle; "and they are suspected by the Earl of Salisbury.

But you have not told me what you are doing in this strange habitation.

Are you ferreting out a plot, or contriving one ?" "Both," replied Tresham.
"How ?" cried Mounteagle.
"I am plotting for myself, and counterplotting the designs of others," replied Tresham, mysteriously.
"Is this place, then, the rendezvous of a band of conspirators ?" asked Mounteagle, uneasily.
Tresham nodded in the affirmative.
"Who are they ?" continued Mounteagle.

"There is no need of concealment with me." As this was said, Tresham raised his eyes, and saw that Guy Fawkes had stepped silently forward, and placed himself behind Mounteagle's chair.
His hand grasped his dagger, and his gaze never moved from the object of his suspicion.
"Who are they ?" repeated Mounteagle.