“No purse,” they said.
They left the boy naked, with all his clothes on the floor. As the door closed behind them he fell senseless on the cold stone. A long and vague period followed, which was veiled from his consciousness by a kind of semi-darkness. During that period he seemed to find himself again in the presence of the bald-headed man, who still sat at his desk and glared at him over the rims of his gold eye-glasses.
The boy had only the haziest knowledge of that which took place; and subsequently was never able to satisfy himself as to whether or not he was again wearing clothes at this interview. At least he had no recollection of having put them on again or of any one else having done so.
The beautiful woman street-person in the gay clothes, and the little girl with golden curls, had gone away. The large and gloomy room smelt very oppressive, and seemed full of police constables.
“Have you a father?” said the bald-headed man. Although all was darkness and confusion about the boy the harsh voice seemed to cause his heart to stop beating.
The boy made some inaudible reply, which finally was taken for an answer in the affirmative.
“A mother?”
A further inaudible reply was taken to be a negative.
“What is the name of your father?”
“I—I—I d-don’t think I know, sir,” stammered the boy.