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 prot�g� 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. 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?