The door slammed and Captain Clinton, with a twist of his powerful arm, yanked his prisoner back into his seat. Howard protested.
"You've got no right to treat me like this. You exceed your powers. I demand to be taken before a magistrate at once."
The captain grinned, and pointed to the clock.
"Say, young feller, see what time it is? Two-thirty A. M. Our good magistrates are all comfy in their virtuous beds. We'll have to wait till morning."
"But what's the good of sitting here in this death house?" protested Howard. "Take me to the station if I must go. It's intolerable to sit any longer here."
The captain beckoned to Maloney.
"Not so fast, young man. Before we go to the station we want to ask you a few questions. Don't we Maloney?"
The sergeant came over, and the captain whispered something in his ear. Howard shivered. Suddenly turning to his prisoner, the captain shouted in the stern tone of command:
"Get up!"
Howard did as he was ordered. He felt he must. There was no resisting that powerful brute's tone of authority. Pointing to the other side of the table, the captain went on: