Before long, while Margaret and her companion sat shadowed from observation by the bush, they began to distinguish the words.
"To think that I should have been duped like that," cried one.
"'Tis Cochlaeus," Margaret whispered, but Herman made no answer. The man was saying more, and he would not miss a word.
"I went through the ship, and through it again, but found no trace of that accursed Englishman; not a sound nor a sign of his presence. Nothing came of my search but the discovery of that mad stowaway, who has left marks on my fingers that will stay for many a day."
The company halted close by, and Herman and Margaret, holding themselves in silence, neither moving hand nor foot, scarcely breathing lest they should betray their presence, peered into the darkness. Accustomed to it by this long night vigil, they saw the indistinct forms of six men, but who they were, or whether armed, it was impossible to tell. What they heard set their hearts palpitating with fear.
"What can you do?" one asked, who had gone closer to the bank, as if to gaze up the broad stream.
"I mean to overtake the Marburg, go on board, and search afresh for Tyndale," said Cochlaeus, almost viciously.
"And if you find him?" asked the other, speaking back over his shoulder, but not moving from the bank.
"Make an end both of him and his accursed practices," came the hot answer. "Canst see the ship?"
"No."