All this was useless talk. Two black policemen were already there. Straight toward the marionette they went and asked his name.
“Pinocchio,” he answered in a faint voice.
“What is your business?”
“I am a marionette.”
“Why have you come to Africa?”
“I will tell you,” replied Pinocchio, “You gentlemen must know that my poor father sold his coat to buy me a spelling book, and as I have heard that there is plenty of gold and silver in Africa, I have come here.”
“What kind of talk is this?” asked the elder of the two policemen. “No nonsense! Show us your papers.”
“What papers! I left all I had at school.”
The policemen cut short the marionette’s words by taking out their handcuffs and preparing to lead him away to prison. But the innkeeper was a good-hearted man, and he was sorry for the poor blockhead. He begged them to leave Pinocchio in his charge.