"No! No!" she cried in terror, flinging herself into her father's arms.
Brauner blazed up. "What do you mean?" he demanded, facing the detectives.
"You'll find out soon enough," said Casey in a blustering tone. "The less fuss you make, the better it'll be for you. She's got to go, and that's all there is to it."
"This is an outrage," interrupted Otto, rushing between Hilda and the detectives.
"You daren't take her without telling her why. You can't treat us like dogs."
"Drop it!" said Casey contemptuously. "Drop it, Dutchy. I guess we know what we're about."
"Yes—and I know what I'm about," exclaimed Otto. "Do you know Riordan, the district leader here? Well, he's a friend of mine. If we haven't got any rights you police are bound to respect, thank God, we've got a 'pull'."
"That's a bluff," said Casey, but his tone was less insolent. "Well, if you must know, she's wanted for the murder of Carl Feuerstein."
Hilda flung her arms high above her head and sank into a chair and buried her face. "It's a dream!" she moaned. "Wake me—wake me!"
Otto and Brauner looked each at the other in horror. "Murder!" whispered Brauner hoarsely. "My Hilda—murder!"