It was the face of a man about thirty years of
age, with a dark moustache, and a slight scar upon the right cheek.
The policeman felt the man's pulse, and found that he was alive. He
then placed a whistle to his lips and gave several long shrill blasts.
He next enquired the names of the two boys, where they were from, and
what they were doing out at that time of the night. To these questions
Rod answered in such a straightforward manner that the policeman was
satisfied.
"You had better get on now," he ordered, "But, remember, we'll want you
in the morning to give evidence. Don't leave the city until you get
permission."
Though both the boys would like to have stayed to see what would be
done with the unconscious man, they did not dare to disobey the
policeman, so they hurried off, and at last reached the hotel. They
found Mr. Dexter anxiously waiting their return, and to him they
related what had happened on the street.
"This is what comes of your galavanting around at such hours of the
night," he growled. "You should have been in your beds long ago. And
so we've got to wait, have we? This is a pretty state of affairs. I
can't afford to stay here all day to-morrow. Get away to bed now.
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