"My child, you are soaking. Herman, go downstairs, and I will put this poor girl into some dry clothes, else she will be chilled to the bone, and ill may come of it." Herman was serious in an instant, and went away, and in less than half an hour Margaret came down with such clothes as Mistress Bengel could find. Then she told her business. "Where is Master Tyndale? Has he left the city?" she asked, and set the soddened note her father sent by her on the table. It was so limp that the writing on its cover was scarcely readable. Herman bent down and kissed the puzzled-looking face, and hugged her fondly, laughing the while. "Is he gone out of the city?" she asked, because her question had not been answered. "Come with me, little woman," said her lover; and, putting his arm about her, he led her into the front room. Moving the table when he had made sure that the shutters were safely closed, and the window so heavily curtained that no one could look in from the street, Herman cleared the centre of the floor, removed the carpet, and tossed it in a heap into one of the corners. "Just a word, little one," he said, before he did more; and he sat down while he spoke, the better to see his darling's face. "I never told you, but years ago my father made a discovery when he was digging for a safe place in which to hide what bit of money he had, in case of war, and he came across something. You shall see it." He went on his knees, smiling when he saw Margaret's wide-open eyes. Taking the knife from his belt, he drove the blade deeply into one of the boards, and using it as a handle moved the board aside. He moved the next with his hand, a third, and another also. Asking for a lamp, he held it over an open space, and looking into the blackness Margaret exclaimed in surprise. At her feet were some rough, wooden steps, leading into what seemed to her a deep well, the bottom of which was not visible. Herman put a foot on the topmost step, and descended a little space, when he asked for the lamp. "Come with me," he said, as she handed it to him, and Margaret followed without hesitation. Reaching the bottom, step, she found herself in a chamber about ten feet long, six feet wide, or thereabouts, and rather more in height. At the farther corner was a spiral staircase, and when Herman went down with the lamp, and she followed, she came to another room. Herman saw her bewildered looks, and explained. "My father thought it was a stronghold for heretics when, a century ago, persecution was keener even than now. There were tokens of it in abundance; but never mind that at present. I'm going to let you into the secret of Master Tyndale's strange disappearance." He cried, but not loudly, and to his call there was a hollow return of the sound. "Master Tyndale!" he cried again. "Who is it?" was the response. "It is I. Herman Bengel." CHAPTER VII THE PASSAGE Margaret gazed into the darkened space, and listened, with increasing wonder.