Niendorf was informed that all the officers connected with the station were too busy to attend to his case then, and that he would have to remain until the next day, when he would have an opportunity to tell all his troubles. He was locked up, but during the night, it appears, some prisoner or some one from the outside “put a flea in his ear,” telling him not to open his mouth, to be a brave man, and he would come out all right. The next morning at ten o’clock he was brought into my office, but he was not at all communicative. He sat down and said nothing.
“Well, Niendorf, how do you feel?” asked Mr. Furthmann. “How did you sleep?”
Not an answer.
“Are you sick?” interestedly inquired Furthmann.
No answer.
“Did any one insult you or hurt you?” continued Furthmann.
Still no response.
“Who has changed your mind since you were here?” I inquired.
Not a syllable of reply.
“See here,” said I, “you cannot make us feel bad. I will give you just two minutes by the watch to get over your lockjaw.”