“Red-haired chap—foxey like. Was you two talking much after you went to bed? if so, I hope you did not tell each other any secrets.”
“Why? pray tell me.”
“Because in next chamber slept red-haired chap—‘foxey’ I calls him,—and as I was going by to my bed at the end of the passage, I seed him through his door, which he had left ajar, with his ear as fast, as if he were glued to the partition, where I knowed there was a little hole.”
Cuthbert looked serious as he said, “And were we talking just then?”
“Yes, I heard summut about Ilminster and Langport, and some other places; you were talking too loudly, and I don’t doubt ‘foxey’ heard it all, too; beest thee going that way?”
“Yes, I must.”
“Can’t ye take another? He’s gone that ere way before thee, I saw him start; he had a sword by his side, and may lurk in ambush for thee.”
“No, no,” thought Cuthbert, “it means worse than that; he knows about our meeting at midnight, and his plan will be to surprise both of us, and the secret: Sir John may be at Glastonbury, and he would go to him at once.”
“Good bye, and many thanks,” he said, aloud, “he has more need to fear me than I him. I must catch him, he must never reach Glastonbury before me, it would be utter hopeless ruin. Good bye, keep our secret to yourself, and God bless you.”
And setting spurs to his horse, he rode off at a brisk trot.