As it was, he had not a penny about him. It was difficult to keep up an air of bravado under these circumstances.
The crowd was growing bigger each minute. The policeman looked somewhat perplexed. He judged from Rex’s appearance that he was not a hoodlum who would be likely to throw a stone at a Chinaman’s window, but he admitted that he had been running, and here was a man ready to swear that he saw him throw the stone.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Reginald Bemis Pell,” replied Rex promptly. He was proud of his name, and brought it out now with a kind of flourish.
“Where do you live?” went on the officer, while the crowd pressed closer to hear the replies.
“At Marley.”
“You don’t look like a boy who would break windows for the fun of it.”
“Of course I wouldn’t, and when my brother hears of this outrage he’ll raise a big fuss over it. He’s a lawyer and knows how to do it.”
Rex didn’t feel a bit humorous when he made this assertion, but there was something in it that struck the crowd as very funny. A good many laughed, and the policeman tried to repress a smile.
“Where is this brother of yours?”