But for all his quirksome guile he had gotten this time very mightily on the wrong side of the King. For His Majesty was just mad with belief in such things as omens and miracles of God’s providence. So the King shook him off and said, ’It is my royal will, that all who are tainted with the matter shall immediately touch or be held guilty.’ And the saying comforted King James, being, as it were, easily pleased with his own words and plaiks. So they brought us forward from among the crowd bound as we were, and first of all I touched fearlessly the poor dead body of the lad. Yet it was with some strange feeling, though I knew well that I was wholly innocent. But yet I could not forget that something untoward might happen, and then good-bye to this fair world and all the pleasant stir of life within it. Then after me the Dominie touched—even Marjorie and Nell doing it with set faces and strange eyes. It was now the turns of the real murderers, and my heart beat little and fast to see what should happen. ’Let Auchendrayne the younger touch first, being the more directly accused!’ cried the King. But James Mure seemed to flame out suddenly distract, like a madman being taken to Bethlem. He cried out, ’No, no, I will not touch. I declare that I will not go near him!’ And when John Mure strove to persuade him to it, he struck at him fiercely with his open hand, leaving the stead of his fingers dead white upon his father’s cheek. And when they took his arm and would have forced him to it, he threw himself down headlong in the sand, foaming and crying, ’I will not touch for blood! I will not touch for blood!’ But in spite of his struggling they carried him to where the body lay. And, all men standing back, they thrust his bare hand sharply upon the neck where the rope had been. And, it is true as Scripture, I that write declare (though I cannot explain) it, out from the open mouth of the lad there sprang a gout of black and oozy blood. Whereat a great cry went up and James Mure fell forward oh the sand as one suddenly stricken dead. All crowded forward to see, crying with one voice, ’The Judgment of God! The Judgment of God!’ And I shouted too, for I had seen the vindication of justice upon the murderer. The blood of Abel had cried out of the waste sea sand. The mark of God was on the guilty. Then suddenly in the midst of the push I heard a stirring and a shouting. ’Stop him! stop him!’ they cried. I looked about, and lo! there, sitting erect upon his horse and riding like fire among heather, was John Mure. He had stolen away while all eyes were on the marvel. He had passed unregarded through the press, and now he rode for his life southward along the shore.