“Don’t open the door for anybody,” came in stentorian tones from Albert in an adjoining room. “Keep them out!”
The officers had meantime effected an entrance, and, following up the voice, found Albert in bed.
“Good morning, Albert,” said Schuettler, in pleasant, cheerful tones.
“Who told you to come here?” gruffly demanded Albert.
“Capt. Schaack desires to see you on pressing business.”
“Oh, yes; he must be in love with me, since he sent you so early to see me. Has no one killed that d——d bloodhound yet?”
“No, Albert, you will have a chance to see him soon, and then you can kill him.”
“You go and tell Schaack that you have seen me, and that will be sufficient. I will die first before I go. You cannot take me out of here. I want my breakfast, and I will take a sleep before my wife calls me.”
So saying, Albert jumped back into bed. Officer Schuettler remonstrated, and was finally obliged to pull him out. Albert then refused to dress. Talking to him had no more effect than talking to a stone wall.
Hoffman then opened the door, and Schuettler grabbed Albert under his arm and walked out with him despite his kicks and resistance. They got him out into the bracing atmosphere of the morning, and, although Albert was not dressed for company, they started off with him.