He paused, and there was silence for a few moments—silence so intense to Margaret that she could hear her heart-beats and the quick breathing of the startled man at her side.
Cochlaeus broke the silence.
"Only to-day I heard it, not an hour since, in fact. I was passing the Gurzenich, where two men were talking in whispers, but my sharp ears—— Buchsel," he broke off, "if ever you go on the hunt for heretics, be sure to thank God if He has given you a quick ear! He has given me that, and I praise Him! My sharp ears caught the words, for I was going softly, my noiseless shoes giving no token of my passing in the dense darkness, so I halted, scarcely daring to breathe lest I should betray my presence."
"And the man—what did he say?" interposed the other, for Cochlaeus went so slowly with his story, lingering over it as though he enjoyed it.
"Ah yes! He said that William Tyndale was inside the walls, somewhere, that he had spoken with him, and had been told that he was prospering with his translation here, because England had become too hot to hold him. And that was not all. He was on the look out for a printer who would put his vile sheets through the press! This accursed printing!" Cochlaeus burst forth, in savage anger. "It will be the ruin of the Church! It will render the whole world Lutheran, unless we find the fellow and crush him!"
Silence followed again, and those who stood on the landing could not move on. They seemed compelled to take the risk of discovery rather than miss what was to follow.
"What do you propose to do?" asked Buchsel, presently.
"Burn the printing-press, and the printer, if I can induce the authorities of the city to display sufficient spirit. And if I can lay my hand on that fellow, Tyndale, he, too, shall burn, and all the papers he has shall go to the flames with him. God help me, and give me the joy of doing it!"
Suddenly the speaker crossed the floor, and slammed the door, leaving Margaret and her companion in the darkness.