The stranger appeared indifferent whether he was seen or heard, and time seemed to him of no importance, since he looked about him idly. The moon began to flood the meadows more freely, so that the fields and the dells, the woods and cornfields, the distant mountain slopes and their torrents became visible, but the man was the object from which those in hiding could not take their eyes. The puzzle was to know what to do. The impulse came to Herman to walk along the bank as a casual wayfarer, and he would accost the man and lure him away, so that he would not see Tyndale join the ship. So much hung on the secret movements of him in whose wallet such precious things were hidden. Before he had time to decide, the man was on the move. He walked at first apparently without an aim, but he swung round and approached the bushes where the others were hiding. As he drew nearer, the moonlight showed him plainly, a man of fine physique; and he, too, had a pilgrim's wallet on his back. He paused to scan the stream again, attracted by the silver glint on the waters. The man coughed, and Margaret started. She had heard a sound like it somewhere, but where and when she could not tell. The man, drawing nearer to the bush, halted again, and spoke to himself in a grumbling tone. "To think of missing my entrance into the city like this! Now I have to stay here the whole night through, and go in in the broad light of day, when God knows who may spot me, and what may chance." Margaret remembered the voice. It was the form of the man to whom she had spoken when she sheltered in the archway from the pelting rain. It was certainly his voice. "Herman," she whispered, "do you remember what I told you of the man in the archway the other night--the man who cursed the Inquisitors for what they had done for his daughter?" "Yes, what of it?" asked Herman, keeping a watchful eye on the intruder. "That is the man." "Are you sure?" "Certain." "I wonder whether I dare go to him and speak," said Herman, half to himself; but Tyndale suddenly sprang to his feet, and tramped past him, muttering as he went. Herman threw out his hand to catch at him, but was too late. Tyndale was stalking on towards the man, who heard him coming, and, alarmed, had put his hand to the dagger in his belt. "William Roye," exclaimed Tyndale. The two men met, and clasped hands while they stood face to face. CHAPTER X ROYE AND THE INQUISITORS After that hearty greeting, Tyndale and Roye walked to and fro on the river-bank, so absorbed in the pleasure of their meeting that they forgot the danger of moving about in the clear moonlight. Herman, growing anxious, called to them that they were running needless risks. "I forgot!" exclaimed Tyndale. "It was such a joy to see William Roye that everything went."