"I—I was to meet him here," she faltered, looking around with a sinking heart.
"Oh!—God's light!—you are the maid, belike? Well, troth, beshrew me but that's the hell of it!" And the fellow grinned with silent laughter.
"What mean you? What maid? Know you aught—?"
"Of Master Holyday? Sooth, do I! He's on t'other side of this gate."
She stared at the closed gate in bewilderment. "What? In the garden?"
"Ay, in the garden." The man raised his voice a little. "Sure thou'rt there, Master Holyday?"
"Ay," came the reply in the scholar's unmistakable voice. "But the maid is not. Hang her, whither is she gone?"
"Here I am," answered the maid, for herself. "In God's name, how got you in there?"
"In God's name, how got you out there?" said Holyday, vexatiously. "A minute ago you were here, and I was there. You could not come out, so I went for this gentleman, who lifted me to the top of the wall—"
"Which was a service not included in the contract," remarked Cutting Tom.