"I'm going to explore, little one. It came to my mind while we were on our knees that I had heard my father say that once the city nearly fell into the hands of an enemy because of a secret entrance into it from the meadows. May not this be it?" Margaret's eyes grew round with astonishment, and instantly she was alive to the possibilities. If it were as Herman's father said, and this proved to be the passage which was in reality the city's vulnerable point, William Tyndale could get away without having to run the gauntlet, as it were, in the streets and on the quay. He would escape Cochlaeus, and possibly some of those black-robed Familiars of the Inquisition who infested the city. What fear and grief and humiliation it would save if such a way could be found! No danger would threaten her beloved. There would be a safe retreat for Tyndale, or at least the opportunity for finding securer quarters elsewhere; and Cochlaeus would waste some valuable time prosecuting his search. They came to a door which opened when Herman pressed against it. It moved silently and heavily, and when they had passed through the opening, and turned to look at it from the outer side, they saw that it bore the same appearance as the rock in which it was set. When they closed it, it was impossible, in the dim light of the lamp, to detect any difference between it and the rock itself. The two went on slowly, Margaret drawing close to her lover's side, and, noticing this, he put his arm about her waist to give her a sense of greater security. Sometimes the path on which they found themselves descended; but as they went, they saw that it was leading on to some definite spot. Surely it could not be a _cul-de-sac_? They could hardly fail to find an outlet, but the question was, where? Would it be as Herman's father had said--in the meadows? Or would it lead into some house, just as it had begun in one? In that latter case it would mean the realisation of their worst fears, and Tyndale would either be compelled to make his venture through the streets, or if Herman should be taken prisoner by the City Guard on some suspicion, and Margaret as well, and Herman's mother, he would lie in that hidden chamber, in darkness and starvation, dying at last, rotting and forgotten. Margaret shuddered at the thought. "Art cold, little one?" Herman asked, feeling the involuntary shiver of the girl at his side. It was nothing to wonder at that she did so; for here, where they were walking, their feet were in the mire. The dark walls were streaming with water which spread out on the floor, forming pools in places through which they splashed.