The dulled sound of the footsteps on the carpeted boards of the stairs seemed to call up a vision of a scene which would ere long be real—the vision of a prisoner on his trial; condemned in effect by his judges before he had made his defence, just because he was William Tyndale. And then the attitude of the crowd that thronged the market-place where the stake was standing, and Tyndale chained to it. She could imagine it all, and she could almost hear the babel of execration against him.
To think of it! A man of such noble mien to be browbeaten and battered by the screaming mob, cursed, reviled, mud-covered. She shuddered at the thought, and while the impulse came to follow the others up the stairs, she hid her face while doing so, and sobbed.
She stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. Here, on her right hand, was the room into which Herman carried the tired stranger that night they brought him into the city. On the left was Herman's chamber. Just beyond it, again, was his mother's. Master Tyndale must be in one of them.
Captain Berndorf went into Herman's room, followed by the others, and in a few moments Margaret heard the soldier say roughly:
"Are you here? Come out of it, if you are!"
Resistance would be unavailing, for the Captain's sword was drawn and ready, gleaming in the lamp-light.
Margaret went into Tyndale's chamber. It was lighted by the lantern in the street, for the rays came through the rain-splashed window, and as she stepped in she almost expected to see him sitting somewhere, or lying on the bed, waiting for the inevitable. Yet, when she stood well within the place there was a sense of emptiness. William Tyndale was neither in the bed, nor at the table near the window.
Was he really gone?
While her keen eyes ranged around she saw a square of whiteness on the floor, by the table, and went to it quickly, with an instinctive feeling that it was something which would betray Tyndale, or Herman. When she bent down and caught it up she knew that it was a printed sheet. Under it lay another; under that, again, a third. By the dim light she saw that they were printed folios, and one glance was sufficient to show her that they were proofs of the New Testament, such as she had seen in her father's hidden cellar.
She glanced towards the door, wondering whether the soldiers were there, and had seen that she had some papers in her hand, but the doorway was clear. Bending her head a little, she saw that the passage was empty. The men were still in Herman's room.