"Are
you hurt?"
"Yes," said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain
time he blew a loud call on his whistle.
"The rascals!" continued the other. "I think I should know the big chap
with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me."
Mr. Evans blew his whistle again--thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed
too good to lose.
"Did they get anything?" he inquired.
"Not a thing," said the owner, triumphantly. "I was disturbed just in
time."
The constable gave a slight gulp. "I saw the three running by the side
of the road," he said, slowly. "Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I
collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me
down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, and
when I came to my senses again they had gone."
He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of
sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable,
both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them.
"Get back to the station and make your report," said the former, as
Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story.
"You've done your best; I can see that.
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