Constable Rogers, who was a stout, broad-shouldered man, nearly six feet in height, turned from one to the other, and asked: “What has he done?”

“He knocked me over. I want him arrested for assault and battery.”

“And what did you do?”

“I? I didn’t do anything.”

“That is rather strange. Young man, what is your name?”

“Gilbert Vance.”

“You don’t live in this town?”

“No; I live in Warren.”

“What made you attack Peter?”

“Because he flew at me, and I had to defend myself.”