The thin old gentleman smiled.
"I don't mean in a criminal sense, you understand. He's not been in prison, and that kind of thing. But Hunter has not lived exactly the life of a saint. In the case of a judge a fellow-feeling ought to make one wondrous kind."
"I see."
It was a delightful journey. The sun was shining; the air was warm and sweet; the country through which we passed seemed lovely. Perhaps I was in the mood!
As we rattled through Three Bridges Junction the thin old gentleman recommenced his process of feeding me with titbits of information.
"This is where the murder took place."
"Is that so?"
How different it looked in the sunshine!
"Just about there"--he was pointing through the window of the carriage--"is where they found the body."
I wondered if he was right. I, myself, had the vaguest notion. I had not been in a position to make a mental map of my surroundings. It struck me that it must have been a little farther on; to me, at the time, it had seemed to be a good distance from the station. But then I had to allow for the rate at which we were moving. I had walked along the line.