They put their hands on his arms and he struggled.
"Take your hands off of me! What do you mean? I tell you, I'm the Reverend Algernon Thompson, of Adams."
"Don't you believe nothin' he says," insisted Drusilla. "Whoever heard of a name Algernon! He looks much worse'n the other man that was here. Just you take him along."
Drusilla looked scornfully at the man, who was struggling with the officers. They led him to the door, where he again refused to go, and the policemen took him roughly by the shoulders and pushed him into the hall. He struggled wildly, and his face became convulsed as he turned to Drusilla.
"I tell you I'm the Reverend Algernon Thompson; and this is an outrage—an outrage—"
The officers shook him roughly.
"Oh, can the hot air. We're used to your kind. Come along."
And the last Drusilla could hear was the wail of the clergyman: "I tell you I am the Reverend Algernon Thompson—"
After the noise had subsided and Drusilla knew the man was gone she went slowly upstairs to find John. He looked up from the book he was reading and said quickly as he saw her flushed face:
"What is it, Drusilla. Has something upset you?"