“But about that jerkin — you do cut an old man short, you do … it might have been green, but then again it might have been yellow. But the young gentleman what I saw was not the one as you’re after.” “How do you know?” “Why, because he was the Seneschal’s son — the one I saw,” said the old man proudly, as if the fact put him at once into a superior position to Luke. “But it’s the Seneschal’s son — Master Ranulph Chanticleer, that I’m after,
