“That it do; and that you’re in my charge now. Close up, bill-hooks, and stand firm,” the man added to his companions.
“Don’t trumle for we,” said one of the billhook-holders.
“You see there’s no use broadening vi’lent-like,” said the truncheon-holder.
“That’s clear enough,” said Harold. “Would it be imprudent for me to inquire what’s the charge against me?”
“You know,” said the policeman.
“Come, my man,” said Harold; “I’m not disposed to stand this farce any longer. Can’t you see that I’m no vagrant—that I haven’t any of your logs concealed about me. What part of the country is this? Where’s the nearest telegraph office?”
“No matter what’s the part,” said the constable; “I’ve arrested you before witnesses of full age, and I’ve cautioned you according to the Ack o’ Parliament.”
“And the charge?”
“The charge is the murder.”
“Murder—what murder?”