Of the King’s Treasure
sipping my wine, the Justice came back, in a rare perplexity of spirits and mind.
“Why, what is this?” he says. “Here is a fellow that brings a tale as like your own as may be, save that ’tis he is the hero.”
I started, and regarded him in an amaze. “Why,” says I, “all was killed but me and the prisoner, and that I’ll swear.” We stared at each other. “What like of a man?” I asked, in a low voice.
“Why, a small fellow,” says he, “with his head to one side.”
“My God!” I cried, feigning an excitement; “take him, your worship! ’Tis he, don’t let him escape.”
“Why, what’s amiss?” he says, surprised.
“’Tis the man himself,” I said.
“Your prisoner?” he asked. I nodded. “O my Lord,” says the Justice, rubbing his hands, “this is fine news. He has given himself into our hands. You shall see him, you shall face him, and identify him;” and he chuckled. I chuckled, too.
“Why, yes,” I says, “I’ll warrant I’ll face
173
