Herman listened for any possible sound in the cell, but everything was silent. Even the night-birds made no sound to-night, and the trees scarcely moved, so that there was but little rustling among the leaves. He was relieved, for there was no alarm as yet, and they might get away.
"Time is precious, Heinrich," he said. "Those men may call for help."
"I do not hear them," said Heinrich simply. "But let us go. How glad she will be! to have this—and you!" He moved away while he was speaking.
"Where are we going?" Herman asked, when they stepped into the shelter of a bush after crossing a wide and moonlit lawn.
"To the wall. Can you climb it?"
A daring thought, since the silence was unbroken, came to Herman. It was next door to madness, but he yielded to it.
"I will take you by the way I came, Heinrich, and then you shall see how I came to feel so certain that Mistress Margaret had been taken to the Holy House."
"My way is best," said Heinrich doubtfully. "And it is safest."
"But 'tis worth trying. Besides, I have this, and if any try to bar the way, we'll use it;" and from his belt he drew the dagger which he had forgotten in that struggle in the cell.
"I, too, have one," cried Heinrich, drawing his own weapon; and then from caution he went on to the same readiness for recklessness which Herman was displaying.