"Indeed?" returns the policeman. "You will find the young man next door then. Now move on here, some of you."
"Not hurt, I hope?" says Mr. Snagsby.
"Hurt? No. What's to hurt him!"
Mr. Snagsby, wholly unable to answer this or any question in his troubled mind, repairs to the Sol's Arms and finds Mr. Weevle languishing over tea and toast with a considerable expression on him of exhausted excitement and exhausted tobacco-smoke.

"Indeed?" returns a policeman. "You will find him next door. Now move on."
Mr. Snagsby repairs to the Sol's Arms and finds Mr. Weevle languishing over tea and toast with an expression of exhausted excitement.
