When Mr.Grimshaw announced "Guy Fawkes" as the subject for our next composition, you might have knocked down the Mystic Twelve with a feather.
The coincidence was certainly curious, but when a man has committed, or is about to commit an offence, a hundred trifles, which would pass unnoticed at another time, seem to point at him with convicting fingers.
No doubt Guy Fawkes himself received many a start after he had got his wicked kegs of gunpowder neatly piled up under the House of Lords.
Wednesday, as I have mentioned, was a half-holiday, and the Centipedes assembled in my barn to decide on the final arrangements.

These were as simple as could be.

As the fuses were connected, it needed but one person to fire the train.

Hereupon arose a discussion as to who was the proper person.

Some argued that I ought to apply the match, the battery being christened after me, and the main idea, moreover, being mine.
Others advocated the claim of Phil Adams as the oldest boy.