"Yes."
"HATED?"
"Yes, there is proof."
"Of his hate?"
"Yes, judge."
He did not ask where. Possibly he knew. And because he did not ask, she did not tell him, holding on to her secret in a vague hope that so much at least might never see light.
"I knew the boy shrank sometimes from Algernon's company," the judge admitted, after another glance at her face; "but that means nothing in a boy full of his own affairs. What else have you against him? Speak up! I can bear it all."
"He handled the stick that—that-"
"Oliver?"
"Yes."