When he had had some food, and had washed away his travel stains, Herman went through the cavern, but the quest was an unsuccessful one. His exhaustive search brought him to the passage of which the printer had spoken. He halted in the cul-de-sac, with the rock in front of him, and examined it closely. All these underground ways and caverns which were common in that part of the country might have their arms or, as they seemed to him, their tentacles; and yet he was convinced that this was no dead end.
Standing in the dim light which his horn lantern threw on the walls, he tried to think the whole thing out, and form some plan of action; for if Margaret was alive he would find her, whether the search covered days or weeks.
He stood with folded arms, the lantern at his feet; but he bent down for it presently, and scanned the rock which closed up the end of the passage. He had thought of the cul-de-sac in the forest cavern, which the forester had shown him, and which proved to be an entrance to the castle of the robber lord.
Might not this be like that, and leading into some place where Margaret might be?
The thought began to frame itself into something like a certainty, for when he set the lantern on the floor again, he noticed that the earth which had drifted on the rock was beaten in, as though it had been trampled on by many feet. He went on his knees and saw some footprints—those of men who were not shod as he was. His boots were nailed, but these marks were not from them.
Presently his eyes, in that keen search, caught the gleam of something like gold, and when he took it into his hand and held it to the lantern light he exclaimed in wonder. This was his darling's golden bracelet, which he had given her on the day of their betrothal, and he wondered how it came here. Thrusting it safely into his pocket, he sat back on his heels and thought. Was this not a cul-de-sac after all, but the entrance to some house?
He endeavoured to locate the spot. Hard by, just over the cavern, was the city wall. He knew of the houses that were there, but this passage, which was long and narrow, running inwards beneath the city—where did it lie? It ran level with the city wall at first, but then it took a turn, and at right angles it stretched along for many yards.
For a time he merely groped, as it were, in his mind. It was difficult to get his bearings as to streets and houses, but after a while the thing assumed such shape that a cry came from his lips, and his heart so throbbed with pain that his hand went to it to still it.
"The Holy House!" he exclaimed. "My darling is there!"
He went over it all in his mind again, and knew it must be so, and then he saw what had happened. The picture was vividly portrayed, and his imagination served him so well that he could see men's faces, their doings, and his darling's horror. Margaret had gone into the cavern when he left her, and had fallen into the hands of the Familiars, who had walked down this passage and in some way through this place which was blocked by an apparently impassable wall of rock. And she was taken into that place of terror—that den of infamy. It must be so, for there were those dull footprints, such as Familiars would leave, and her bracelet to show that she had been there. And every footprint pointed to the rock. None turned away from it, to suggest that they had found her here and carried her away.