The forester demurred. The proposed errand was too full of danger for his assent to be given with readinesss.
"I mean to go," said Herman, in such a tone of quiet determination that the other felt that it would be useless to attempt to hinder him.
"Very well, then. I admire your boldness, but I think it next door to madness!" exclaimed Engel. "Take the lantern with you."
"No, I won't do that. I can grope my way along the passage, and when I am once on the other side of that door I shall be safer without a light. While I am away, why not see whether it is possible to break away those fetters from Master Tyndale's limbs? Stay here, Roye, and help Engel in doing what can be done for the dear man's comfort."
"That's easily done," said the forester, smiling, and he brought out a file which he had hidden away somewhere. "Sprenkel told me it was just possible that Master Tyndale would be fettered, since it was Schouts' custom to put all his prisoners into irons. That's why I came prepared. Go on your errand quickly, and God speed you. I will start on these irons at once."
While Herman was groping his way along the passage the forester worked hard to relieve Tyndale of that incubus which made free movement an impossibility. But his mind was on the younger man's danger, and he thrilled at the almost certain consequences.
"He must not do that mad thing," he muttered, rising from his knees and tossing the file on the floor.
"He must not, my friend," said Tyndale weakly, rousing himself from his stupor.
Engel did not pause, but hurried along the passage with the lantern in his hand, leaving the others in darkness. He overtook Herman as he was smoothing his hand over the stone door to find the knob which would open it.
"What's wrong?" Herman asked anxiously. "Is Master Tyndale dead?"