She scrambled to her feet, and shook her fist wildly in the face of one of the sheriff's men.
A woman in the crowd, standing rigid and motionless, enveloped in mourning robes, here suddenly caught up the words with a muttering lip.
"Murderers, who said murderers? Don't they know who murdered him? Murdering Moll, Murdering Moll!"
"For heaven's love, Madam," cried a man beside her, who seemed in such anxiety concerning her as to pay little heed to the solemn procession which was now attracting universal attention, "let me take you away!"
But she looked at him with a distraught, unseeing eye, and pulled at the collar of her dress as if she were choking.
Old Judy's sudden expression of opinion created a small disturbance. The procession had to halt; a couple of officials good-naturedly elbowed her on one side.
But she thrust a withered hand expanded in protest over their shoulders, as the prisoner came forward again.
"God bless ye, honey, God bless ye: it's a wicked world."
He turned towards her; for the last time the old sweet smile sprang to lip and eye.
"Thank you, mother," he said, and raised his hand to his bare head with courteous gesture.