Unkempt and unwashed, his long,
black hair hung around a face sallow in the extreme. And he shook so,
as Tom and Jasper marched him back, escorted by the body-guard of the
parson and the little doctor, that the two boys put their hands under
his arms to help him along.
"Well--well--well!" ejaculated Mr. King, as he saw this array. Polly
gathered Phronsie's other hand in hers, while she clung closer than
ever to Grandpapa.
"Here's your pocket-book," said Tom, handing the article over; "he
hasn't spent much."
"Don't, Tom," said Jasper, "joke about it."
"Can't help it," said Tom. "Well, now, shall we turn him over to the
_sergents de ville?"_
"Turn him over?" repeated Mr. King. "I should say so," he added drily,
"and give him the best recommendation for a long term, too. What else
is there to do, pray tell?"
"Grandpapa," suddenly cried Phronsie, who hadn't taken her eyes from
the man's face, "what are you going to do--where is he going?"
"We are going to hand him over to the police, child," answered old Mr.
King, harshly. "And as soon as possible, too."
"Grandpapa, perhaps he's got some little children at home; ask him,
Grandpapa, do."
"No, no, Phronsie," said Mr. King, hastily. "Say no more, child; you
don't understand. We must call the _sergents de ville."_
At the words _sergents de ville_ the man shivered from head to
foot, and wrenched his hands free from the boys' grasp to tear open his
poor coat, and show a bare breast, covered with little, apparently, but
the skin drawn over the bones.
Pages:
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300