The robber looked intently at the king.
“I think not,” he said.
“Have you ever seen this man before?” and James motioned Sir David Lyndsay from the troop at his side.
Armstrong drew the back of his hand across his brow.
“I seem to remember him,” he said, “but cannot tell where I have met him.”
“Perhaps this third man will quicken your memory,” and the cobbler came forward, dressed as he had been the night he was captured.
Armstrong gasped, and a greenish pallor overspread his face.
“The forty-one trees bore their burden.”