“You’ll have to charge them, sir,” said the constable.
“Yes. I know. I must make myself decent first.”
“You can do that afterwards, sir. Better all get in a cab at once before there’s a crowd.”
The cool matter-of-fact policeman was master of the situation, and, summoning a cab, he seemed to pack us all in, and followed to unpack us again a few minutes later, both Esau and I with the spirit evaporating fast, and feeling soft and limp, full of pain too, as we were ushered into the presence of a big, stern-looking inspector, who prepared to fill up a form.
All that passed is very misty now; but I remember Mr Dempster, as he glared at us, telling the inspector that he had had cause to complain about our conduct, and that we had, evidently after planning it, made a sudden attack upon him, and beaten him savagely with a stick.
“But you said robbery, sir,” the policeman suggested.
“Ah!—I will not press that,” cried Mr Dempster. “I don’t want to quite ruin the boys. I proceed against them for assault.”
I looked wildly at Esau for him to speak out, and he was looking at me as if half stupefied. The next I recollect is that the big policeman signed to us to follow him, and we were marched away.
Then we were in a whitewashed cell, a door was banged to, and we heard the bolts shot.
For a few minutes I stood there as if stunned, but was brought back to myself by Esau.