Charles froze on the spot.
Yes, every criminal should be lawfully tried, but men like Muzarelli held greater power than judges. Then who was supposed to judge them?
His gaze swept across the faces of Josiah and the others: these most ordinary people, these people with consciences.
He shook his head, unable for the moment to tell who was right, yet a thought surfaced from the depths of his heart: They cannot be captured by the Secret Police. Josiah straightened his chest again, returning to his carefree manner, and waved at his companions. "Come on! Let those 'mad dogs' know what we're made of!"
Charles suddenly reached out to stop him, then pulled his passport from his coat and handed it to Rocher. "Go negotiate with those Secret Police. Tell them everyone here is my entourage."
Rocher took the passport and was about to urge His Highness to reconsider when he heard a familiar voice. "Mr. Charlie."
He turned in delight and saw Captain Patrice, an officer of the Royal Guards, hurrying toward them.
"Wonderful! How did you find us?" He went to meet him, then looked toward the Secret Police outside the university gates. "Those fellows didn't stop you?"
Patrice first tipped his hat to Charles, then said breathlessly, "I saw many Police gathering in this direction, so I came to try my luck. And you really were here.
"As for those Police, I gave them 20 Francs and said I was coming in to look for my younger brother."
"Where are the others?"
"They split up to look for Your High... to look for someone. Only Boer and five others followed me, but the carriage is outside."
Rocher frowned. "Including me, that makes seven. That definitely won't be enough if we force our way out..."
"Force our way