Every sound thrilled them, for the peril was so great. And yet they moved onwards, bent on getting Tyndale away, if it were possible. After a time they came to a corner, and glanced along another corridor shut off with heavy hangings. Should they venture? There was no hiding-place nearer than a doorway a dozen yards farther on. And here Engel knew his way thoroughly, for, being hail-fellow-well-met with many of the retainers, he had often been there, and was always welcome. He knew that if he could pass that door in safety he had but one more to go beyond, and he would be at the steps which descended to the place where, so Sprenkel had told him when they met in the forest in the afternoon, the prisoner had been placed. The danger centred at that door, and Engel half wished he had come alone, so that his movements should not be hampered. One could move where three would find it impossible and dangerous. "Roye," he whispered, while they were hidden in the curtain, "one can move freely, and perhaps two; but three are too many. It adds so greatly to the fear of discovery. What say you to going back to the secret door and staying in the passage, keeping everything in readiness when we bring William Tyndale with us?" "Is there likely to be any fighting? for, if so, I can do my share," said Roye readily. "There will be no fighting. It's a matter of stealth, and three are too many. One may blunder and spoil everything. We shall all be waiting for each other." "I'll go back, but not willingly," came the reluctant response. "I wanted greatly to be one of those to go to my master, but I see the difficulty." Roye turned on his heel. "Can you find the way?" Engel whispered; and Roye, answering quickly, went back softly. They watched him until he disappeared at the steps. "He's brave enough," the ranger said sincerely, "and I like the man's spirit. There's no doubt as to the love he has for his master, and he's sore at heart at turning back. But three are too many." Engel and Herman made a hurried progress down the dimly-lit corridor, making for one of the doors, but they hid themselves among some curtains almost in panic, for a page-boy came into view at one of the corners, whistling gaily as he walked along carelessly. He passed on, unsuspecting, not even looking at the heavy curtains. As for those in hiding, they almost forgot the boy in the intensity of their surprise at what they saw. From among the folds in which they stood, they looked into a gorgeous chamber, and at the table, in the centre, so seated that the flaming logs upon the hearth lit up their faces, making the lights of the candles dim with the red glow, were two men. One was Schouts, the robber lord. The other was Cochlaeus. Both had wine goblets by their hand, and were talking seriously. CHAPTER XVII THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON "What will you give me, Deacon, if I hand you over this prisoner of mine, whose name, you say, is William Tyndale?"