The dialogue between Tom Turnberry and the two strangers had been over for a good hour, when another conversation took place a few steps from the gate of the inn, between Mrs. Kyle and one who considered himself a favourite lover.
“These be plaguy cunning knaves,” said Mrs. Kyle; “they thinks, I’se warrant me, that no one doth know ’em; yet—but I shall say nothing, not I.”
“I dare swear a man would need to be no fool who should strive to deceive thee, Mrs. Kyle,” replied her companion, willing to draw her on a little.
“Me!” replied she; “trust me, the old Fiend himself would not cheat me; for instance, now, that saucy Sang there did no sooner show his face within the four walls o’ the Norham Tower than I did straightway know him through all his disguises; and so, having once nosed him, I did quickly smell out his fellow-esquire, and the two knights their masters.”
“That was clever in thee, i’ faith, Mrs. Kyle,” replied her companion.
“Yea, but my name be not Margaret Kyle an I make no more out by my cleverness,” said the dame. “But mum for that.”
“Nay, thou knowest thou canst not be Margaret Kyle long, my bonny dame,” replied the man.
“Fie thee now,” replied she, “sure it will be long ere I do trust me to men again, after honest Sylvester, my poor dear husband that was.”
“And what didst thou say they were here for?” demanded her companion.
“Ye may trow they are here for no good,” replied the dame. “I’ll warrant me the seizing o’ them will be a right brave turn; but mum again, for he who is to take them this night did say as how none should ken nothing on’t till the stroke should be strucken; yea, and by the same token he did gie me kisses enow to seal up my mouth.” [[405]]