Javert had a forkful of pasta in his mouth (quite generously sauced; he would have been perfectly satisfied with just a hunk of bread) when Carden revealed that little nugget.

He carefully set his empty fork down and stared at Carden. Hard. Evidently he was having some difficulty putting these fragmented pieces together and reconciling the congenial, generous young man in front of him with the bits and pieces of the place he came from. Carden's home sounded like a befuddling place.

"I have never heard of a school that hunts its errant students like convicts."