"Dost suspect any ill-woman of being the cause thereof, Sir Adam?" asked the brodder, whose eyes began to twinkle in anticipation of a pricking fee, while his square mouth expanded into a grin.
"No, no; I spoke but in metaphor, and suspect none." He paused. "Thou sawest the procession to-day?"
Nichol nodded his vast head affirmatively.
"Didst mark any man there whom ye knew to be my enemy?"
"I marked his eminence the cardinal, who confined a damosel of yours, among his other ladies, in the auld tower of Creich."
"Tush!"
"I observed the lord abbot of the Holy Cross, who won his plea against thee anent the duty on every cart entering the barriers of the town."
"Thou triflest! didst mark no one else?"
"Well, then, I marked the master of the king's ordnance, shining in cloth of gold and crammasie."
"Good!—anything more?"