Caroline turned her spiritless eyes upon him. "I'm waiting till there's a way cleared for me to get through, without pushing against folks and contaminating 'em. What's the show to me, or me to it?"
"At the last assizes, in March, when the judges came in, young Anthony Dare made one in the streets, looking on," resumed the sergeant, chatting affably. "I saw him and spoke to him. And now he is gone where there's no shows to see."
She made no reply.
"The women there," pointing his thumb at the group of talkers hard by, "are saying that Herbert Dare won't like the sound of the college bells.—Hey, me! Look at those young toads of college boys, just let out of school!" broke off the sergeant, as a tribe of some twenty of the king's scholars came fighting and elbowing their way through the throng to the front. "They are just like so many wild colts! Maybe the prisoner, Herbert Dare, is now casting his thoughts back to the time when he made one of the band, and was as free from care as they are. It's not so long ago."
Caroline Mason asked a question somewhat abruptly. "Will he be found guilty, sir, do you think?"
The sergeant turned the tail of his keen eye upon her, and answered the question by asking another. "Do you?"
She shook her head. "I don't think he was guilty."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't. Why should one brother kill another?"
"Very true," coughed the sergeant. "But somebody must have done it. If Herbert Dare did not, who did?"