But he kept the pistol pointed at the robber, and--you will hardly believe it, but it is true--the robber threw down the screwdriver clattering on the other tools, and he _did_ throw up his hands, and said-- 'I surrender; don't shoot me! How many of you are there ?' So Dicky said, 'You are outnumbered.

Are you armed ?' And the robber said, 'No, not in the least.' And Oswald said, still pointing the pistol, and feeling very strong and brave and as if he was in a book, 'Turn out your pockets.' The robber did: and while he turned them out, we looked at him.

He was of the middle height, and clad in a black frock-coat and grey trousers.
His boots were a little gone at the sides, and his shirt-cuffs were a bit frayed, but otherwise he was of gentlemanly demeanour.

He had a thin, wrinkled face, with big, light eyes that sparkled, and then looked soft very queerly, and a short beard.

In his youth it must have been of a fair golden colour, but now it was tinged with grey.