It was then agreed, that they should not set out till nightfall, but proceed, as soon as it grew dark, to Lambeth, where Humphrey Chetham undertook to procure a boat for their conveyance across the river.
The hour of departure at length arrived. Viviana, who had withdrawn to her own room, appeared in her travelling habit, and was about to set forth with her companions, when they were all startled by a sudden and loud knocking at the door.
“We are discovered,” she cried. “Doctor Dee has found out our retreat.”
“Fear nothing,” rejoined Chetham, drawing his sword, while his example was imitated by Martin Heydocke; “they shall not capture you while I live.”
As he spoke, the knocking was repeated, and the door shaken so violently as to threaten to burst its fastenings.
“Extinguish the light,” whispered Chetham, “and let Father Oldcorne conceal himself. We have nothing to fear.”
“Where shall I fly?” cried Oldcorne despairingly. “It will be impossible to raise the flag, and seek refuge in the vault.”
“Fly to my room,” cried Viviana. And finding he stood irresolute, as if paralysed with terror, she took his arm, and dragged him away. The next moment the door was burst open with a loud crash, and several armed men, with their swords drawn, followed by Topcliffe, and another middle-aged man, of slight stature, and rather under-sized, but richly dressed, and bearing all the marks of exalted rank, rushed into the room.
“You are my prisoner!” cried Topcliffe, rushing up to Chetham, who had planted himself, with Martin Heydocke, at the foot of the stairs. “I arrest you in the King's name!”
“You are mistaken in your man, sir,” cried Chetham, fiercely. “I have committed no offence. Lay a hand upon me, at your peril!”