Then the prisoners were brought in. John Mure the elder, with his grey hair and commanding presence, looked out of from beneath his eyebrows like a lion ignominiously beset. James Mure the younger came after his father, a heavy, loutish, ignorant man, but somewhat paled with his bloody handling at the instance of the Lords of Secret Council. Also in accordance with the promise of Earl John in the matter of the finding of the cave, James Bannatyne of Chapeldonnan was not set up for trial along with them, which was a wonder to many and an outcry to some of the evilly affected. Then the court being set, the dittay was read solemnly by a very fair-spoken and courteous gentleman, Thomas Hamilton of Byres, the King’s advocate. He spoke in a soft voice as if he were courting a lady. And whenever he addressed a word to the prisoners, it was as if he had been their dearest friend, and grieved that they should thus stand in jeopardy of their lives. Yet, or so it seemed to me, John Mure was ever his match, and answered him without a moment’s hesitancy. Then, after the advocate’s opening, the evidence was led. They called upon me first to arise. And I declare that my knees trembled and shook as they never did before the shock of battle. So that only the sight of Nell’s pale face and my mother holding her hand, at all gave me any shred of courage. But, nevertheless, I went, with my tall, blue-banded hat in hand and my Damascus sword by my side, to the stance. And there I told all that I had seen—first of the murder at the Chapel of St Leonards, with the matter of the Grey Man who sat his horse a little way apart among the sandhills. Yet could I not declare on mine oath that I knew of a certainty that this man was the accused John Mure of Auchendrayne. Though as between man and man I was wholly assured of it. I told also of the sending of the letter and of the confusion of the lad upon his return from the house of Auchendrayne, and of all the other matter which came under my observation, even as I have detailed them in this history, but more briefly. Then a tall, thin, leathery man, Sir John Russell the name of him, advocate for the Mures, stood up and tried to shake me in my averments. But he could not—no, nor any other man. For I wasted no thought on what I ought to say, but out with the plain truth. So that he could not break down the impregnable wall of the thing that was, neither make me say that which was not. Then there came one after the other the Dominie, Meg Dalrymple, Robert Harburgh, and lastly my own Nell. But they had little more to tell than I had told at the first, till the herald of the court cried out for Marjorie Mure, or Kennedy, called in the pleas the younger lady of Auchendrayne.