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we were about to discover. However, I can tell you for certain that I saw no “guilty glances”. We were shocked, but none of
     us will prove to be your culprit.’
    Michael watched while Bartholomew carefully pared away the rest of the snow that covered Norbert, hoping that thekiller might have abandoned the weapon he had used, and that it might lead them to its owner. However, the culprit had done
     no such thing, and the physician had nothing to show for his painstaking excavation. The student had died face down, probably
     after a violent attack from behind. There was nothing to suggest he had known his assailant, but nothing to suggest he had
     not. The stab wound was wide and deep, indicating that it had been caused by a fairly large blade, but not one of abnormal
     size that would be easily identifiable.
    Bartholomew sat on his heels and tucked his frozen hands under his arms in a vain attempt to warm them. He thought about the
     fear the young man must have felt, as he staggered towards the hostel already fatally wounded, and wondered why he had not
     shouted for help. The thought jarred something buried deep in his memory.
    ‘You say he failed to come home on Tuesday night?’ he asked. Ailred nodded.
    ‘Why?’ demanded Michael immediately. ‘What have you found?’
    ‘Nothing, but I was summoned to tend Dunstan the riverman then. He has an affliction of the lungs that produces an excess
     of phlegm, and—’
    ‘We know,’ interrupted Michael, forestalling what might prove to be a detailed description of some particularly unpleasant
     symptoms. ‘You have been dragged from your bed for Dunstan several times since the weather turned sour. Did you see Norbert
     on Tuesday night?’
    ‘I heard something: a screech. Then a man jumped out of the shadows and knocked me over. I told you about it the next day.’
    ‘You did,’ said Michael thoughtfully. ‘But if you heard this scream, and an instant later someone knocked you head over heels,
     it was not the killer you encountered: he was murdering Norbert at that precise moment.’
    ‘And there is no reason to assume the killer had an accomplice,’ acknowledged Bartholomew. ‘At least, not one thatwould be lurking so far away. It was just a thought; I was wrong.’
    ‘It may be important,’ said Tulyet, reluctant to abandon what might be a clue. ‘Perhaps Norbert called for help, and you were
     the only one who heard him. Was it very late?’
    ‘Past midnight,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘But the sound I heard may have been from an animal, not a person.’
    ‘There is no reason to assume it was not Norbert,’ pressed Tulyet doggedly. ‘I know he left the King’s Head at midnight on
     Tuesday, because the landlord hunted me down yesterday and insisted I pay the debts he had incurred. It
must
have been him you heard, and he was murdered as he walked home. Damn! Why did he have to die like this?’
    Bartholomew was surprised to see the glitter of tears in Tulyet’s blue eyes before he turned away to look towards the High
     Street – not surprised that Tulyet should show compassion, but that a man like Norbert should warrant it.
    ‘Even if I had gone to his aid I could not have saved him from wounds like this,’ he said gently. ‘The man who pushed me was
     probably a beggar looking for somewhere to sleep, who had nothing to do with Norbert’s murder.’ He winced as he rubbed his
     frozen hands together. ‘But I have done all I can here. The killer has left us no clues.’
    Ailred dispatched a student to fetch a bier and offered to have Norbert delivered to Tulyet’s house. Tulyet nodded his thanks,
     looked one last time at the place where his cousin had died, and then walked away with Michael and Bartholomew on either side
     of him.
    ‘My father may feel obliged to ask Sheriff Morice to look into the matter, since Norbert was our kinsman – the nephew of a
     prominent town merchant,’ he said as they walked. ‘I shall do my best to dissuade