Yet it so happened that there was a man there from out of the shoreside of Girvan. He was a coastwise sailor, and he took the rope in his hand.
'This rope,' he said, turning it about every way, 'is Irish made, and has been used to tie bundles of neat hides.'
'And who,' again asked the King—shrewdly, as I do admit, 'who upon this coast trades with Ireland in the commodity of neat hides?'
'There are but myself and James Bannatyne of Chapeldonnan,' replied the man, honestly and promptly.
'And this is not your rope?' said the King.
'Nay,' said the man, 'I would not buy a pennyworth of Irish hemp so long as I could twine the hemp of Scotland—no, not even to hang an Irishman would I do it. This is James Bannatyne's rope!'
Then said the King, 'Bring hither James of Chapeldonnan!'
And they brought him. He stood forth, much feared indeed, but taking the matter dourly, like the burly ruffian he was. Nevertheless when put to the question he denied the rope, and that in spite of all threats of torture. Yet I could see that the King was greatly shaken in his opinion, and knew not what to think. For when John Mure drew near to touch his arm and as before say somewhat in his private ear, the King drew hastily away and looked at Auchendrayne's hand as though there had been pollution upon it. So I knew that his opinion was wavering. Also the poor body in the mother's arms daunted him.
Suddenly he clapped his hands together and became exceedingly joyous and alert.
'I have it,' he cried, 'the ordeal of touch. It is God's ordinary and manifest way of vindicating His justice. Here is the dead body of the slain. Here are all the accused and the accusers. Let it be equally done. Let all touch the body, for the revealing of the secrets of the hearts of wicked men.'