"Hush, sirs," said Glencairn; "our man is in the next room, perhaps, and may overhear us."
"Let us see to him," said Kilmaurs, loosening his dagger in its sheath.
"Stay, sirs," said Shelly the Englishman; "and excuse me if I am less reckless in bloodshed than you; for, under favour, and with all due deference be it said, I came from a more peaceful land, where if the sword is drawn, it is usually for some weightier reason than because one man wears a dress striped with red and another wears it striped with green, or because one man wears a tuft of heather in his steel cap and another sports a sprig of laurel; and so, ere you proceed to violence in this matter, I would pray your lordship to be well assured of who this stranger is."
"If we suspect this knight of the crimson suit of being a spy of the Valois or the Guises, what matter is it who he is?" replied the master of Lyle impatiently. "But there is the landlord in conference with one of Preston's followers, so, let us inquire of him."
"Ralf Riddel!—gudeman, come hither," said Kilmaurs.
Thus commanded, Riddel ascended to the gallery, with several low bows, while the man with whom he had been conversing, and who was no other than Symon Brodie the butler of Preston, an unscrupulous and bloodthirsty swashbuckler, remained, bonnet in hand, on the steps a little lower down, to listen greedily to all he might overhear from a group so gaily attired.
"Did not yonder gay galliard come from a ship in the roads?" asked Lord Kilmaurs.
"Who?" responded Riddel, with evident reluctance.
"He of the crimson-velvet doublet and long French boots."
"Yes, sir," replied Riddel, with increasing hesitation, for he read mischief in the eyes of all.