He walked into the room where Herman's mother sat, and Margaret entered that one where the search had been just made. The lamp stood on the sconce, and she looked around. There was nothing on the table where Tyndale had so often sat to write. Nothing was in the place to suggest his presence; not a sheet of paper, no clothing, no traveller's wallet, nothing that could in any way be connected with the stranger whom she and Herman had brought within the city.
Would Master Tyndale be in hiding elsewhere in the house? There lay the question, the tarrying of the answer adding to her heart-beats and her despair. This inexplicable indifference on Herman's and his mother's part would go dead against them when discovery came.
She went sick with dread. Her knees so trembled that she sank into a chair close by, regardless of the soddened clothes which clung to her. She could only bury her face in her hands, and hope, and pray. There was plenty of scope for prayer; so little for hope.
When she felt she could stand again and move about, feeble compared with the sound of loud beating in her heart, she heard the Captain's voice once more.
"He is not here; but he may be upstairs. Men, see that none pass you to go into the street. I will go up and make sure for myself."
He began the tramp up the stairs while he was speaking, and other heavy footsteps followed his.
CHAPTER VI
THE SEARCH
Margaret's heart quailed when she hurried out of the room and followed the men up the stairs. Now, for a certainty, Herman's protégé would fall into the hands of his enemies, and escape seemed impossible. Her pulse beat high, and despair swept over her, to think how she was to witness the undoing of one who was striving for the triumph of the right.
To be caught in a trap like a rat! It was unbearable to think of.