Before long the mistress of the inn had brought them up a meal which was appetising to hungry travellers. She bade them eat and be at ease, and left them; but Herman and the forester saw with much disquiet how she looked at Margaret and then at Tyndale. "What did that mean, think you?" Engel asked in little more than a whisper when they presently stood at the window, looking out on the long, white road which lost itself in the growing darkness of the evening. "And yet it was not an unkind look," said Herman. "It seemed to me that she was concerned--that there was some kind solicitude, and when she glanced away from Tyndale to Margaret it was as though she felt a womanly tenderness for her." "I pray God you may be right," the forester answered. When it was dark and the blind was drawn, and the little company--all save Margaret's mother, who had gone to bed--drew round the fire to talk awhile before they separated for the night, the door opened softly and the mistress of the inn appeared. Every eye was turned her way, and each heart beat quickly when they saw the anxiety on the woman's face. "What is your will, mistress?" Engel asked, in little more than a whisper when he marked her stealth and seriousness, and saw how she closed the door softly behind her and came towards them before she said a word. What she said was barely audible, and she glanced at the door in a way which betrayed her fears. "If this be Master William Tyndale," she exclaimed, pointing to him with her forefinger, "and this sweet young lady Mistress Margaret Byrckmann, I have news for you that is disturbing." "What is it?" asked Margaret, bending forward in her chair, her rosy cheeks gone pale, while her startled eyes were fixed on the woman's face. "Are ye whom I think?" the woman asked. "Tell me truly, for it is no idle curiosity on my part. It may be a matter of life or death for two among you, perhaps for all." "What if we say they are?" asked Master Byrckmann who was near, and when he caught at her hand, he felt that she was trembling. "Then you must be gone." "Gone. But why?" asked Tyndale, who, so far, had not spoken. "I brought you all up here, Master Tyndale, because when I saw you enter the inn--you and this sweet girl--I feared that you were those who are being sought for by Doctor Cochlaeus, who is hoping to carry you back and lodge you in the Inquisition dungeon from which this pretty one escaped." She paused, but none spoke, for the consternation in every breast robbed them of speech. Had they come so far to be captured when so near to safety! Each longed to know what the danger was which made it necessary, worn out though they were, to go out into the night.