"He's brave enough," the ranger said sincerely, "and I like the man's spirit. There's no doubt as to the love he has for his master, and he's sore at heart at turning back. But three are too many."
Engel and Herman made a hurried progress down the dimly-lit corridor, making for one of the doors, but they hid themselves among some curtains almost in panic, for a page-boy came into view at one of the corners, whistling gaily as he walked along carelessly. He passed on, unsuspecting, not even looking at the heavy curtains.
As for those in hiding, they almost forgot the boy in the intensity of their surprise at what they saw. From among the folds in which they stood, they looked into a gorgeous chamber, and at the table, in the centre, so seated that the flaming logs upon the hearth lit up their faces, making the lights of the candles dim with the red glow, were two men.
One was Schouts, the robber lord. The other was Cochlaeus. Both had wine goblets by their hand, and were talking seriously.
CHAPTER XVII
THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON
"What will you give me, Deacon, if I hand you over this prisoner of mine, whose name, you say, is William Tyndale?"
Schouts lifted the silver flagon while he spoke, and filled his goblet.
"Two hundred and fifty golden crowns, my lord—the price that is set on that fellow's head," Cochlaeus answered.
"What!" cried Schouts, in sharp surprise, with the goblet half-way to his lips. "You would make a crafty bargain with me, and pay me as much as you would pay one of my retainers if they chanced to find this lean-faced Englishman?"