But this hubbub was dying away at the moment Newton emerged from the sally-port and came out into the Street—where, for the first time in a while, no one paid him any note. All eyes had collected on one of the mounted nobles: a young man, well-but not extravagantly dressed, who had remained silent through all of the insults and the bluff of Charles White’s Messengers. In the moment before the man moved or spoke, there was a cæsura; and during it, one could hear the muffled tromp of massed boots coming up Mint Street. The second, larger bloc of men was marching this way.